Broken Hearted

The last few weeks have been very emotionally draining for me.
In the past, I've said that I wanted my heart to be broken by the things that break God's heart. In the back of my mind, I thought that meant things like poverty, homelessness, widows and orphans, and sickness. However, in the last couple weeks I have realized is that maybe what really makes God sad is when He looks at the world and sees how messed up we human beings are because of sin.

We live in a very broken world, and I am just now beginning to realize how dysfunctional it really is. I was very blessed to be raised in the home that I was (although I may not have realized it at the time!) which resulted in me being fairly sheltered and unaware of the utter brokenness that constantly plagues society. But I'm not sheltered anymore, to say the least.

When I came to South Africa, I didn't understand that part of what happens when you become involved in people's lives and they trust you, you start to see parts of their lives that you sometimes wish didn't exist. Things like abuse, anger, rape, abortion, bitterness, jealousy, and divorce. Things that just make me want to weep and cry and plead for God's mercy. And it results in a deep sadness in me because there is an underlying knowledge that nothing I do can really change anything. I can listen to their stories. I can let them cry on my shoulder. I can pray for them. I can try to offer words of comfort or encouragement. But in the end, only God can truly change a person. Only God can take away that pain from broken relationships and abuse and violence. Only the Holy Spirit can take away that anger and bitterness and jealousy. Only Jesus can save and rescue a person - not just for eternity, but starting in this life as well.

My heart has truly been broken in the last few weeks. I'm still debating whether or not that is a good thing. In the end, I'm sure it will be good. Right now I'm still not sure...

Just a Quick Funny Story

Today I was visiting one of my favourite families. They have basically adopted me, and I spend quite a bit of time at their place. Anyways, they were attempting to teach me how to make roti, which is kind of like an Indian flatbread that they eat with all their curries. Attempt is the key word in that sentence...apparently all my experience in rolling out pie dough did not help in the rolling out of roti. Anyways, as we were laughing at my not so circular roti, someone made a blonde joke. I quickly protested, as I was clearly the only blonde in this Indian household. "Oh no," they quickly assured me, "You're not blonde...you're Canadian!"
So now I'm trying to figure out if that was a compliment or not. Is it better to be blonde or Canadian? And isn't it possible to be both? Because I certainly thought I was...maybe I've been wrong all these years!

Creativity...or not

If there is one thing I have learned over the last 23 years, it is that I don't have a creative bone in my body. I don't know how to come up with new and exciting ways to communicate ideas to others in a way that will stick with them. If someone tells me exactly what to do, I can try and follow their directions and something mildly successful might occur. But please, please, PLEASE don't ask me to come up with a creative idea on my own.
And yet, it keeps happening. People forcing me to be creative in order to teach and share new ideas. I knew I would have to go out of my comfort zone when I came to South Africa, but I didn't think it would be into this area. Thankfully no one has asked me to teach an art class. Yet. But they've come close.
For example, the other day I was helping out with a park ministry (similar to a one-day VBS since the schools are on holiday for this week). My role wasn't much - mostly helping keep the kids in line and improvise a short lesson when we split into small groups for discussion. However, as I was leaving, Pastor and I had a short conversation:

Pastor: Amanda, we are having park ministry again in December.
Me: Okay...
Pastor: It's going to be three days this time.
Me: Okay...
Pastor: So you will write a skit to share the lesson.
Me: What?!?
Pastor: And maybe draw a poster to show what we're talking about.
Me: Um...I don't know if I can do that. (If you have ever seen my attempts at artwork, you would know that I am telling the honest truth and not just trying to get out of doing something.)
Pastor: Sure you can.
Me: No, I really don't think I can.
Pastor: Well, we'll talk about it more later. But just start thinking about it. And working on it.

And that's the end of the conversation. Just for the record, I also don't know what the theme of this park ministry is supposed to be. Perhaps it is up to me to come up with a theme?  Sigh. Pray for some idea of creativity to come into this very uncreative brain.

Culture Shock

Culture shock.
Those two words that every missions or cross-cultural course tells you about. They tell you what the relative timeline of it will be. The symptoms of it. How to overcome it.
And yet it still doesn't seem to be enough.

I was arrogant enough to think that I had escaped culture shock. Yes, there was a short period in my first month in South Africa where I realized that I had it, but that quickly went away, and I just went on with my everyday life (whatever that is). I often am asked what the major differences are between South Africa and Canada, and half the time I can't even really think of them. So I just assumed that I had adapted to this beautiful country and was safe from the dreaded culture shock.

And then someone pointed out to me that I was experiencing culture shock without even realizing it. What?!? How could I be experiencing culture shock? I didn't have any of the classic signs. I wasn't feeling sad or lonely. I wasn't angry or unwilling to interact with others. I wasn't overly concerned with my health. I wasn't idealizing Canada or creating stereotypes of South Africa (believe me, there are so many stereotypes already existing in South Africa that I don't need to create anymore!). If I wasn't experiencing any of those things, how could I be in culture shock?

I was, and still am, experiencing a different kind of culture shock. One where I am literally in shock after spending time with people. I don't know how to deal with their stories. I just sit there open-mouthed and wonder how on earth these people have lived such different lives than I have. I honestly don't understand it. At first, I was sad and felt so sorry for them when I heard their initial stories. Then I watched them interact with their friends and families. They opened up more to me and I heard more about who they are and why. And I realized I wasn't sad anymore - I'm angry! I'm angry with them because their stories are one-sided. They don't realize that much of the reason they have such hardships is because of their own choices. I am not trying to say that they haven't had extremely hard lives or that circumstances have had no influence on where they are today. However, instead of overcoming circumstances, they seem to blame them or others for everything that is wrong in their lives. And the reason I am angry with them is because these people are my friends, and they don't want to see that the lives that they are living are leading them down a path of destruction. I'm angry that they are hurting themselves. (Please note - this is not a generalization of all South Africans. This is simply what I have experienced with a couple of ladies and their families. Not everyone that I work with is like this.)

So I guess I have experienced culture shock. I have been sad. I have been angry. I get frustrated with their inability to see things the way I see them. But I don't think that this culture shock is something that will just pass away with time - in fact I don't want it to. I don't want to just accept their sin or lifestyle as something that is okay. I want to be challenging them, forcing them to look at their lives with new eyes, and see that maybe there is another way that is better. Not MY way, but JESUS' way.

Hurts and Bondage

I know that it’s been a while since I have written, and I apologize for that. I have no real excuse, other than the fact that writing is not my favourite thing to do. And I just realized that I’m always apologizing for not blogging…which I don’t think I should be doing. I don’t know. It’s too late and there’s too much going on in my head for me to really think clearly.

Anyways, Saturday was a crazier day than expected. Early in the morning, my phone decided that it did not want to live anymore. You can roll your eyes at me, but I rely quite heavily on my phone. It is my main means of communication, especially since I don’t have a landline. I also tend to check e-mails on it, listen to music, and stay up to date with the world with it. I know, I know, I’m too reliant on my phone. I’m realizing that more and more this week as I go without it.

On Saturday morning, though, I was supposed to be helping with a holiday club in the park. Holiday club is simply the South African version of VBS, except this one wasn't quite as organized and it took place in a park. After a bit, I managed to get an e-mail a friend of mine who messaged the man who was supposed to be picking me up to find out what time he was arriving. Once there, it was slightly chaotic. There were about 40-50 kids total, including a dozen kids who were under the age of 4, and some were still not quite potty trained (as I found out when holding one in my lap). The kids were of all ages, backgrounds, and races. The boys basically played soccer for most of the day, when they weren't having a simply Bible story. The girls required a little more to make them happy… somehow I ended up being in charge of helping them make beaded necklaces – something that is not exactly my gifting, but we all learned together.

While we were making necklaces, two little girls who are sisters latched onto me. One is 4 and her older sister is 5. The younger one was telling me quietly how her father beat her. My heart started breaking. In a society like South Africa, what do you do when you hear that? You can’t really do anything. Anyways, she kept going on about how she didn't like the dark, and how she scared easily. And all I could do was hug this tiny little girl and pray for her. Later I found out that her father had actually shot himself in front of her and her sister two years ago, and her mother is not exactly a model of an upstanding citizen. These little girls are basically on their own and traumatized. I just feel so helpless. There is a Christian lady who lives in a flat near to them that keeps an eye on them, but she can only do so much.

I am starting to think the worst feeling in the world is knowing that someone is hurting and being unable to do anything for that person. And it is a situation that I find myself in more and more. It can be physical hurt like hunger, but it seems to be emotional hurt more and more. I hear stories that break my heart, and it seems like I can do nothing except pray for the person.

And then there is the spiritual pain and bondage I see every day as well. The women trapped behind their veils, the fear of the evil eye, the endless rituals of bowing and not eating during this month. I know that JESUS CHRIST is greater than any other power, but sometimes it just seems so oppressive and hopeless. I know that I have been called to make a difference in this area, but how? How, when everywhere I look, there is another lady who does not know Jesus, and is so fearful of stepping out into the hope and light He offers? How, when the Christian ladies I talk to think that it is wonderful that I have been called to do this, but think that they could never talk to one of their neighbours like that?

Saturday afternoon, after holiday club, Dave and I went out to a friend’s to try and fix my phone. After looking at it, he sent us to another of his friends to see if he could do anything with it. Long story short, we were invited to their house that evening in the hopes that he could fix it before I left for Cape Town the next morning. We gave them a lift to their home and stopped at the Bangladeshi market on the way. Dave and A* stayed back while S* and I headed into the actual market. We must have looked a sight…S* is a fully veiled lady, whereas I was in my jeans and hoodie (just for the record, I don’t normally dress like that when doing ministry, but I hadn't really planned on going on, plus I didn't have time to change after holiday club), but she didn't seem to have a problem with it. She was happily introducing me to all of her friends, all of whom are Indian. I think I was the only white person in the market!

As we were talking, I discovered that she used to be a Christian and converted about five years ago. Once again, my heart broke and I was (and still am) so confused. How? How could someone give up the joy and freedom of Christianity for the oppression and slavery of a religion that has no hope or assurance? Why? I don’t understand. Perhaps she was never a true believer to begin with, but I still don’t understand why she would willingly choose to follow a religion that basically requires her to be lonely as she hides from the world.

I am hoping to meet with her again when I return from Cape Town. Perhaps she can clarify why she has chosen the path that she is on. And perhaps I can help show her the hope and light of Jesus, so that she can break free of the spiritual bondage she is in.

God's Hand of Protection

This is probably going to be a longer post than normal...I don't even know where to begin. So much has happened lately that I feel like I should share with others. I admit part of it is my own fault - I haven't updated my blog for a while, so there is a few weeks to cover. But most of it has happened in the last four or five days, and I haven't had time to update, so I don't feel too guilty. :)

Anyways, in my last post, I mentioned that I finally got my South African driver's license! That meant I could start the whole process of searching for a car, which actually didn't take too long. Within a week, I had found the car that I wanted, and within ten days of getting my license (on June 3), I was the proud driver of a 2005 VW Vivo Polo (red, of course!).

That car could not have come at a better time. As some of you may know, this past weekend (June 7-9), we held a large conference at a camp 1 1/2 hours north of Durban. 110 Christian ladies from all over South Africa came to hear and learn about the need to reach M women, specifically in their own neighbourhoods.

The theme of the weekend was "Hope for the Hopeless", and right from the beginning it seem that arranging transport was going to be a hopeless task. A few of the ladies were able to drive themselves directly to the camp, but most came by either bus or plane into taxi. This meant we had to figure out how to get 95 ladies from Durban up to the camp (which is why my car also came in handy!). We also ended up hiring a bus and a 15-passenger taxi. Getting up to the camp, everything seemed to work out ok, although the bus did manage to get lost for an hour. But everyone made it to the camp eventually, tired and ready for the evening meal.

The whole weekend was filled with workshops, sessions, and times of sharing. It was so encouraging to me to see so many women passionate about sharing their faith with M friends. Some saw the need for it for the very first time, which was also extremely exciting.

Anyways, the weekend in general was really encouraging and moving, and I may or may not go into more detail about it at another time. We'll see how ambitious I am feeling.

Back to the issue of transport. The weekend was good, but then it ended and we needed to get people back to Durban, both to catch flights and to get on buses. Unfortunately, the bus and taxi that we had hired were late. Very late. I ended up taking three ladies in my car to the bus station because they were going to miss their bus if they didn't leave immediately. After dropping them off, I went home and was excited to sleep for a while, not realizing what else was happening. Shortly after getting home, I got a message asking me to fetch some ladies from a gas station and take them to their hotel for the night (their bus was leaving early, early the next morning and so they stayed the night in Durban). I was confused as to why they were at the gas station, but agreed and dropped them off as well. As I was driving home, another car and I collided.

To be honest, I don't even really know what happened. Thankfully, nobody was seriously injured. I am a little sore and have some small bruises, and I think the other driver has a bruised leg. But thankfully there was nobody else in our cars. I'll admit that I was in shock and don't really know what happened after either, but Cathy (my colleague who came) explained everything to me later and we both couldn't help but be amazed at how God provided and worked everything out.

Like I mentioned before, both the taxi and bus were late in picking up people from the camp. In fact, they were both over an hour late. This meant that by the time the taxi arrived, the people who needed to get onto flights first were shuttled onto it and left immediately. That wasn't our original plans of who was going onto the taxi, which is why those other ladies ended up being at a gas station. There were another five ladies who we had misunderstood their travel arrangements and ended up needing a ride back to Durban from the camp. That meant that even after the bus and taxi left, there were still sixteen ladies who needed to get back to Durban (plus all of their luggage and the decor and leftover food from the camp) that needed to fit into two cars. They soon realized that it just wasn't going to work, no matter how full they tried to fill their cars (and believe me, in South Africa you can fill cars VERY full!). Cathy ended up phoning Anand, a friend of ours whose wife was instrumental in helping to plan the camp. Anand came and picked up Cathy and two others who had volunteered to stay behind and wait.

It was on the way home that Cathy received the phone call from me saying that I had been in an accident. By that time, it was only her and Anand left in the vehicle and they came immediately to the scene and were there within 5-10 minutes. If I had phoned even one minute later, they would have passed the off-ramp they needed to take and would have had to take another 15-20 minutes to circle around. They arrived and Anand completely took over dealing with everyone. Anand is also the father of my insurance broker. He called him, and communicated everything that needed to happen and what order it needed to be done in. He talked to the police and figured out the tow truck.

Oh, the tow truck driver. I'm pretty sure he was an angel. And I am saying that with a completely straight face. He was one of the first people there, and just kept reassuring me, telling me not to talk to anybody, and that it was going to be ok. I have no idea whether or not he is a Christian, but I do know that God used him at that time to comfort me and make sure that I wasn't taken advantage of, in any way. And even the police officer. He was so kind - not gruff at all (like so many police here can be). Just simply said that anybody could get in an accident and don't worry about.

Eventually I went home...well to Dave and Cathy's home, where I spent the night. I've mentioned before how I have been so blessed to have so many people who want to take care of me here. And that was once again made obvious to me last night. As soon as Cathy heard about the accident, she messaged our prayer coordinator and all the ladies who had just been at the conference were informed and started praying for me.

There was another car that also broke down as we were transporting people in Duran as well. But once again, everything worked out so perfectly in the small details that I KNOW God was behind the small details. There was definitely spiritual warfare happening last night, but I fully believe that God was limiting the devil in what he could do to us. Everybody made it onto their bus or plane on time. Nobody was injured. The fact that Anand was with Cathy, and that they were so close by is a miracle.

I'll admit - this past weekend has been extremely long. And I am tired. But I have learned SO much. Both through the conference, and the things that happened after it. I have literally seen and felt the hand of God protecting me, seen Him multiply food, and met some amazing women.
I can't help but thank God. He is good, and He is in control, and He is mighty, and He is doing, and will continue to do, GREAT things in South African women. Amen. 

Driver's License!!!

Just a quick update that I probably should have put up two days ago...but I didn't. So please forgive me. Anyways, I GOT MY DRIVER'S LICENSE!!! Just to clarify, this means I am now legally allowed to drive a manual vehicle in South Africa. And automatics, too, I guess. And I didn't even have to bribe anyone. 

Thank you so much for everyone who was praying for me. The whole morning I had such peace and wasn't nervous at all, which I know is because there were so many people both here in South Africa and in Canada (and probably elsewhere in the world that I'm not even aware of) praying for me. So once again, thank you!

Next step, buying a car!

Stereotypes, Malakal, and Durban

This week I have been thinking a lot about African stereotypes and assumptions made by the general western world (the biggest one being that Africa is a country - in case you were not aware, Africa is a continent composed of over 50 diverse countries...exact numbers differ depending on which disputed countries you include and which website you check). When Africa is mentioned, I think people associate it with beautiful scenery, HIV/AIDS, living in straw huts, poverty, lions and elephants, war, etc. I think there are quite a few generalizations made about Africa, and I will admit that I have seen every single one of the things listed above (except for the lion - I haven't seen that...yet!). But there is so much more to Africa than that.

Africa is not just one homogeneous country (as mentioned before).
Three years ago tomorrow I arrived in Malakal, South Sudan for the first time. Three months ago yesterday I arrived in Durban, South Africa for the first time. I believe I have been to the two extremes of this continent.

Before arriving in South Africa, I knew that it would be different than when I was in South Sudan. But I don't think I really realized how different. I just mentally associated all of Africa with my brief six month stint in one city, when really Durban and Malakal are on complete opposites of a spectrum. I can't help but compare them, but at the same time I don't really even know where to start with comparing them (I know that doesn't make any sense at all, but it's how I feel).

Malakal. I loved living in Malakal. I loved my little tent. I loved going to the market and bartering with vendors. I loved (and hated) trying to learn Arabic, and all the goofs that went along with that. I loved my students, who could be so mischievous, but could smile their way out of any situation (I didn't enjoy the teaching so much, but I loved my students). I loved visiting ladies and sipping coffee with them. (I realize I'm making this sound very idealistic. Don't get me wrong - there are definitely things I did NOT enjoy, like the mud, my frustrations as a teacher, and the toilet situation...or lack of one.)

I am also loving living in Durban, but it is SOOO different. At night I don't hear animals...I hear cars (and occasionally the crazy cat that lives near my flat). I don't barter with merchants at the market, but instead drive to massive shopping centers that I get extremely lost in (does one mall really need TWO movie theaters?). Instead of fighting the mud every time I want to go somewhere, I can take leisurely walks on a sidewalk to the park or beach. And when I am walking, I don't stand out as a white foreigner, but instead blend into the melting pot of cultures that exists here. In fact, in Durban it is sometimes easy to forget that I'm not in Canada...until I actually start visiting with people and am very quickly reminded of the huge cultural differences that I couldn't even begin to understand.

I don't really know if there is a point to this post. I think the fact that it was three years ago that I first arrived in Sudan (which was a huge influence on me being here in South Africa) has just made me stop and reflect on the different parts of the world that I have visited. And how I can't sum up any of those places in just a few words, because they are more than stereotypes. They are real places with real people with real stories. 

Confirmation

Recently, I had a few people ask me why I didn't blog more, or something along those lines. In all honesty, I think it was because I felt like there was nothing in my life to blog about. I'm settling into South Africa, slowly getting to know people, nothing too exciting or different to tell people, blah blah blah. In short, I simply couldn't think of any stories to tell people.
In addition to that, I was starting to get discouraged. I hadn't made any friends who I could share Jesus and His love with. Don't get me wrong...I've made friends since arriving (a surprising number actually, many of whom have very graciously taken me under their wing and helped me in various ways), but none who aren't already Christians.
On one hand, I was slightly okay with that. I'm in Durban for two reasons, and the first is to help Christian women in South Africa to see the need to reach out to those around them who are blinded to the truth about Jesus. So in one sense, I could almost justify not really developing any relationships with those who aren't already believers. But it also seems extremely hypocritical to be telling other people that they need to be reaching out more when I'm not doing it myself. And it's also the second reason why I'm here - to tell other people about Jesus and what He has done for them. Which is why my biggest prayer lately has been for God to give me a friend who isn't a Christian.
Today God answered that prayer request. A colleague of mine had dropped me off at Shaista's house while he visited another friend. I've met Shaista before, but never on my own, and it was more like I had tagged along before rather than actually building a relationship. Anyways, he dropped me off and told me to let him know when I wanted to be picked up, both of us assuming it would be about an hour, maybe two at the most.
Shaista graciously welcomed me in and offered me tea while I held her newborn daughter. In fact for the next two hours, I feel like I got a crash course on babies and taking care of them. After a bit, I could tell that Shaista was getting tired (she has a newborn after all) so I messaged my colleague, he said he would be there shortly, and I waited for him. And waited. And waited some more. Eventually I phoned him and heard that his car had been "misplaced". Long story short I ended up staying at Shaista's house for over six hours while everything was being sorted out. And at the end of the day I have a new friend.
I'll admit that it was a longer day today than expected. But it was so good. And I wouldn't change a thing. There was no way that I could have planned the experience that I did today, and I'm glad that my friend had the car problem that he did. Spending the afternoon/evening with Shaista confirmed to me that God has called me to this specific place to do this specific ministry.
I know that I've said it before, and I'll probably say it again in the future, but God is sooo good. And so awesome. And once again He has shown me that He is in control of every situation. Even car problems.

I'm NOT a child!

In the past 24 hours, I've had two interesting conversations that are quite different, but have a similar theme.

Last night, Jessica, a precocious five-year-old, asked me where my mom is. I replied that she is on the other side of the world in a country called Canada. She thought about this and then asked me where my dad is. I answered that he is with my mom in Canada. She furrowed her brow, thought for a few seconds, and then wondered, "Well, who takes care of you then?" I proceeded to tell her that I had many people who are looking out for me and taking care of me here.

Then, this morning, I was eating breakfast when one of the older ladies that I work with said that she liked me in a skirt. It reminded her of a little girl playing dress up. Another of the ladies laughed and said that she IS a little girl. I was a little offended and promptly replied that I am a grown woman and didn't like being called a child (clearly my little tantrum helped prove my point about being all grown up).

It's funny - I've never really thought about my age a lot until coming to South Africa. In fact, I often forget exactly how old I am and often think that I am younger than I am because I don't really feel any different than I did at 18. Ironically, I assume that I don't need anyone to look after me. I have lived on my own in the past, and thought that I could take care of myself (of course, my parents were only a phone call away, as were AMA and multitudes of other services that I don't have here).

When Jessica asked me who takes care of me, I initially laughed it off, but upon further thought, there are a multitude of people looking out for me, whether it be the people I work with, the ladies I am ministering to, my neighbours next door, or the individuals in my church. Even though my parents aren't close by, I still have comfort in the knowledge that if I ever needed something or felt unsafe, there are several contacts in my phone who would come immediately.

It doesn't matter that I'm 23 and think that I am invincible. The truth is that I'm not, and it took a 5-year-old to point that out to me. I still need other people. And I always will. It doesn't matter if I do eventually decide to grow up a little bit. I need others. I can't do anything on my own. Not only do I need God's help, I also need other people. It's kind of humbling to realize how little I can do on my own. Actually, it's extremely humbling. Oh well. I need that every now and then. Just remind me of that the next time I think that I don't need advice from those older and wiser than myself. :)

God is GOOD.

God is good. 

I can't help but start this post with that phrase, especially when I think of the last blog I wrote. 

God is so, so, SO good. All the time. Even when I don't understand what He is doing at all.

The last time I posted, I briefly mentioned a young lady whose brother had committed suicide. Later, as we were talking, I found out that almost a year ago to the day her sister was killed in a car accident, and her father was murdered when she was only a child. And then, yesterday, I received a text message saying she had been in an accident. As she had been standing waiting for the bus, a car had hit her and taken off. Miraculously, she escaped with only a dislocated shoulder and scraped up knee. Even so, my heart just sunk. How much more can this poor 19-year-old girl take?

Well, I quickly made plans to see her for supper last night. When I first greeted her and asked how she was doing, she smiled and said she was fine. And as I looked at her, I believed her. You could see it in her eyes. The last time I had seen her, you could just see the hopelessness and pain that she was facing. The sorrow and grief. The unforgiveness and anger that she had been harboring towards her brother. This time, it was all gone. When she smiled, it was genuine. There was joy. There was peace. This was a new woman. This was a woman who had found Jesus. 

As we talked, it became more and more evident that she had become a believer. And that she had completely given Him her sorrows, pain, and burdens. 

I still don't understand why she had to experience so much in so short a time. But Isaiah 55:8-9 reminds me that I don't need to understand (these verses seem to be coming up A LOT lately):

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.

As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.

Like I said, these verses have been coming up way too much recently - a continual reminder that I shouldn't try to figure out what God is up to...it's almost as if God is trying to teach me something here...

Anyways...

God is good. All the time. 

The Lord Gives and the Lord Takes Away

The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Yesterday, I definitely got a new perspective on the cycle of life and death.

I ended up going to the funeral of a well-known pastor in the area. He was only in his late-forties, and although he had been sick for a few months, his death was still unexpected. It was quite a large funeral - I would guess it to be around 1000 people - and it ended up being quite a long one too, as person after person gave tributes about him. He was a very giving man, gave everything he had and then some, full of joy, and it was also mentioned how he had been a bit of a rascal in his younger years, but God had transformed him. And then his son gave the last tribute. And I couldn't help but shed a tear. My heart broke for this young man who is also going into ministry. But he said that his father wouldn't have wanted any tears at his funeral, because he was a man of laughter. Over and over it was emphasized how good God is, and what a day of rejoicing it was.

On the way home from the funeral, Dave received a phone call. A good friend of his needed a ride to the hospital because his wife was about to have triplets (his wife had already been in the hospital for a week or two on bed rest). Later that evening she had two girls and one boy. New life had come into the world the same day another one was being ushered out.

And then, at a bible study last night, we were told of a young lady who was new to the church whose brother committed suicide. Later I heard more of the story, and I wanted to weep. To put it simply, it's not the first tragedy the family has suffered. Tonight I had the opportunity to pray with her, but I still don't know what to say to her. I want to wrap her in my arms and tell her that God loves her, but it seems like such a pat answer, so trite, too simple. But what else do you say?

It's not right. It doesn't seem right. And yet, I think of those three little babies, and I have to remember there is still life. There is still hope. In fact, hope came into the world in the form of a baby 2000 years ago. And when He returns, there won't be any more pain or sorrow or death anymore.

The song "There Will be a Day" by Jeremy Camp has been running through my head today. It goes:

I try to hold on to this wold with everything I have

But I feel the weight of what it brings, and the hurt that tries to grab

The many trials that seem to never end, His word declares this truth,

That we will enter in this rest with wonders anew

But I hold on to this hope and the promise that He brings

That there will be a place with no more suffering

There will be a day with no more tears

No more pain, and no more fears

There will be a day when the burdens of this place

Will be no more, we'll see Jesus face to face

But until that day, we'll hold on to You always

I know the journey seems so long

You feel you're walking on your own

But there has never been a step

Where you've walked out all alone

Troubled soul don't lose your heart

Cause joy and peace He brings

And the beauty that's in store

Outweighs the hurt of life's sting

I can't wait until that day where the very one

I've lived for always will wipe away the sorrow I've faced

To touch the scars that rescued me from a life of shame and misery

This is why this is why I sing

There will be a day with no more tears

No more pain, and no more fears

There will be a day when the burdens of this place

Will be no more, we'll see Jesus face to face

There will be a day He will wipe away the tears

He will wipe away the tears

He will wipe away the tears

There will be a day

I don't know why this pastor died in the prime of the ministry he was involved in. I don't know why this young man took his own life. I don't understand it. But I have to trust that God is in control. And until Jesus comes again, all I can say is:

The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord. 

In Durban, at last!

Yesterday, I finally arrived in Durban - my home for the next two years. It is very green, and very hilly - just a slight change from the prairies I grew up on. It's also extremely hot and muggy - another small change from Southern Alberta. There is currently a cricket game playing in the background - something I'm not even trying to understand right now. Apparently a game can last up to five days. I'll be honest - the crickets I'm used to are little black insects that like to chirp all day long.
I'll admit - the last week has been a tad bit overwhelming. Lots of information coming at me that I'm pretty sure I won't remember in another month. Actually, I KNOW that I won't remember it in another month because I've already forgotten most of it.
However, I think the hardest thing that I've experienced so far is my loss of independence. I've always been a fairly independent person, and all of a sudden, I have to depend on others for things like getting around, a place to live, and, most importantly, their knowledge. I'm having to ask questions about things I thought I knew about, like budgeting, how to find a cell phone plan, getting a driver's license, how to drive - things I took for granted that I knew, and all of a sudden, it's completely different. Yesterday, I had to ask Dave how to plug the light in that's in my room! (In my defense, so that you don't all think that I'm an idiot, there are at least two different kinds of plug-ins here in South Africa, and the lamp did not fit into the outlet that was near it.)
It's very humbling to realize that you don't know something and you need others to help you. At the same time, that is part of what living in a Christian community is all about. It's understanding that we cannot do it on our own - we need each other to encourage us, pray for us, help us, and sometimes simply to inform us. I am quickly realizing how blessed I am to have people that are willing to help me and answer my questions. I have been reassured so many times that if I need anything, big or small, to let them know and they will help me to the best of their abilities. Hopefully they don't regret telling me that!

First Thoughts from South Africa

I've been in Cape Town for a couple days now, and it still feels so unreal. After all those months of praying, waiting, preparing, and waiting some more, it's hard to believe that I'm actually in South Africa.
The last time I was on this continent, I was in South Sudan. And in a tiny part of the back of my mind, I think I was expecting South Africa to be like Sudan. Newsflash - it's not. I was told yesterday that I have now been to the two extremes of Africa. I think that has been the biggest "culture shock" for me. I was expecting it to be so different, and yet it's not. If I didn't know better, I would think that I had just plopped myself down in a much warmer part of Canada. It's hard to remember that although it may look, smell, and even sound (except for the accent) like Canada, it's a completely different culture, and people are probably interpreting what I say and do very differently than they would in Canada.

I went to the beach yesterday afternoon for orientation (the couple that is orientating me was shocked I hadn't been there yet, and decided I needed a proper orientation, aka the beach and ice cream). It's funny - I've been to the ocean before, but it had never seemed so powerful before. All I could sense was the wind in my face, the saltiness of the air, the roar of the ocean, and an overpowering feeling that God is present. Hopefully the rest of orientation is as fun and relaxing!

Speaking of which, I'll be in Cape Town for a few more days doing more orientation (and catching up on sleep - this whole jet lag thing is harder than I thought!). Cathy, the woman I will be working under and staying with for the first little bit in Durban, came to Cape Town yesterday, and I will be leaving with her on Wednesday for Durban. Once again, it's hard to believe it's actually happening. Four short days, and I will be there! So excited! 

Halfway There!

So I am currently hanging out in the London Heathrow Airport. Which means that I am almost halfway to Cape Town! Crazy!

I'm pretty sure that I just had the best flight ever (and I didn't even watch a single movie). After saying good-bye to my family in Calgary, I boarded the plane to London and settled into my seat. The man next to me asked where my final destination was, and I told him Cape Town, and that I was going to South Africa to do missions. He then revealed that he is also a missionary, and was headed to Ireland. Since the missions world seems to be very small, I asked him if he knew the Carlaws, two families that serve in Ireland that used to live in Bow Island several years ago. To my great surprise, it turns out that I was sitting next to Bryce Carlaw (I'll admit, I was slightly embarrassed that I hadn't recognized him...oh well). 

I don't know if he could tell that I was a little nervous about leaving, but he calmed my nerves and distracted me from my thoughts on leaving by the conversations that we had. I even managed to sleep for about half of the flight (which I wasn't sure I would be able to).

It was a miracle in the first place that I even had a seat on that plane. It is even more of a miracle that out of any of the 250 people I could have been sitting next to, it was Bryce. 

It's kind of interesting - I was originally scheduled to leave January 29, but due to some visa complications was delayed until yesterday/today (I'm not quite sure what day it is anymore...), and I was trying to find some reason for it. I don't know if this was the reason I was delayed, but I am so glad that I was in the seat I was in on the flight that I was on. 

Once again, God showed me that He is in control. He knew long ago which flights I would be on, and who I would be sitting next to. What can I say? God is amazing, and I can't help marveling at how He continually shows that He is taking care of me. 

A Day of Small (or not so small) Miracles

The last 24 hours have been....interesting, to say the least. A combination of ups and downs...although, looking back there have definitely been more ups than downs.
It started last night. I have been patiently (well, maybe not-so-patiently) waiting for my visa to South Africa to arrive in the mail. As I was driving home, I decided to see if the post office was still open, even though it was technically past its closing hours. To my surprise, it was! As I opened the box, I saw a parcel slip in there. When I saw that the parcel was from the South African Consulate General, my heart did a little leap. My visa had finally arrived. I'm pretty sure I danced out of the post office, much to the amusement of Ken, the postman. When I finally arrived at home, I ripped open the envelope, only to stare at the top paper in shock. It said that my visa application had been denied due to some missing paperwork. As I stared at it some more, I realized that some of the paperwork needed to come from South Africa. My heart sunk. My mom hugged me, told me that I would get to SA when God wanted me to get there, and told me that all we could do was pray.
It's interesting...I have been told several times in the last week (and even more time in the last few months) that I will get to South Africa when God wants me there. God is sovereign, He is in control, and He has a great plan for me, and I just need to trust Him. To be honest, last night I wasn't doing a very good job of trusting Him. I couldn't help but wonder what He was thinking and why He couldn't have just made my visa go through with no complications.
Anyways, this morning I woke up, and was struck by how at peace I was. I just had the knowledge that everything was going to be okay. I may not be in South Africa by the end of January, but it is still going to work out...somehow, someway. Because God is in control.
I phoned the SIM office in Toronto (small miracle, they are two hours ahead of Alberta, so I could phone as soon as I woke up) and talked to Ruth, the lady in charge of travel arrangements. She told me exactly what paperwork I needed to get and e-mailed the SIM South Africa office to see what could be done. I drove to the bank in Taber to get the paperwork that I needed and shortly after I arrived home again, an e-mail was waiting in my inbox with everything I needed from South Africa. I got back in my car, drove back to Taber, and quickly mailed my application again. And now all I can do is wait.
In summary, my departure date will probably be delayed until the beginning of February now, which means that I will have to endure two more weeks of winter until I can enjoy the wonderful South African summer. Sigh. But that's okay, because I feel like I got to experience a whole bunch of small miracles in the last day. The post office was still open (when it should have been closed), and I managed to pick up the letter yesterday. If I hadn't picked it up until today, it could have delayed everything by another day. The people I needed to talk to were in the office when I phoned. I was able to get all the paperwork from the bank that I needed with no problem. The South African office checked their e-mail from home after the office was closed, and even drove back in to make sure I could get the papers I needed.
It's funny. I can doubt the timing of God, and then I look at the timing of today, and how everything worked out, and I can't help but realize that He is obviously in control and was clearly working everything out today. Just goes to show that I really shouldn't doubt God. Sigh. Just another lesson that I need to keep on learning.