Redeemed.

"Some wandered in the desert wastelands, finding no way to a city where they could settle.  They were hungry and thirsty, and their lives ebbed away.

And HE delivered them from their distress.

Some sat in darkness and the deepest gloom, prisoners suffering in iron chains.

And HE brought them out of darkness and the deepest gloom and broke away their chains.

Some became fools through their rebellious ways and suffered affliction because of their iniquities.

And HE sent forth his word and healed them; he rescued them from the grave.

Others were merchants on the mighty waters…they mounted up to the heaves and went down to the depths; in their peril their courage melted away.  They reeled and staggered like drunken men; they were at their wits’ end.

And HE stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were hushed.

Let them give thanks to the Lord for his UNFAILING love and his WONDERFUL deeds for men."

-Excerpts from Psalm 107.

Today I am overwhelmed by a God who sees all of these people.  Who sees the wanderers, the prisoners, the fools and the merchants (or as I like to think of them, “the self-made man”).  But He not only sees them; He answers them.  He comes to them.  He is exactly what they need.  He takes their brokenness, their confusion, their mistakes, their fears, their pain and he redeems it. 

I know my story.  I know how God has saved me from myself more times than I can count.  But I think I often underestimate the power of His love.  I forget that He works in everyone’s life the way He works in mine.  And so I am stopped dead in my tracks when I hear other people’s stories of redemption.  I am overwhelmed when I experience genuine, selfless love from a person whose story is so filled with pain and disappointment.  It’s easy for me to understand how someone from middle class America with loving parents and a good education can be loving and generous.  That MAKES sense.  When you have been loved, you in turn love.  But when I hear the stories of my friends and my students and the random strangers I interact with on a daily basis, I am undone by a God who can fix all things broken.  A God who not only wants to FIX it, he wants to make it something entirely new.  Something beautiful and strong and something that will forever cause people to stop and say, “Only by the grace of God.”  Because THAT is how I feel.  I look in the faces of these precious people and I know.  I know that their joy and their love and their strength and their patience and their beauty is because of Him alone.  

Because it’s the only reason MY life has been redeemed.  

(Also, if you've never heard this song, you should listen to it now cause it basically sums up everything I'm feeling tonight.  Beautiful Things)

Repainting.

There’s something I’ve been thinking about for awhile now.

I know for people who haven’t been to Africa before, it’s hard to visualize this place.  It’s hard to imagine the day-to-day life of a world so utterly different from what we’re used to in America.  Everyone talks about the culture shock when they come here for the first time; the extreme poverty, the tiny houses and the dirt roads, the children running around with no parents.  They also talk about the way it puts things into perspective and makes you grateful for what you have.  In recent years we have become more socially aware and organizations like Invisible Children, RED, and countless others have opened our eyes in a brand new way.  It’s good; please don’t get me wrong.  Our eyes NEED to be opened.  We NEED to be struck with the painful dichotomy that exists between our American lifestyles and the majority of people in this world who can only dream of what we take for granted. 

BUT my fear in our eyes being opened is that we tend to see these people and these places as nothing more than projects.  We paint pictures of poverty and pitiful children who are crying out for some compassionate white person to write a check and make their lives better.  And yes, there is so much need here in Zambia.  It can be overwhelming at times.  It can be frustrating to know that the money we often drop on new outfit could send a desperate child to school for a year.  It can be agonizing to hear of 5-year-old boys dying of preventable and curable diseases like malaria.  This IS a third-world country, and that is painfully obvious to me every single day.

But what we often fail to see if the way that these third-world countries tend to be rich in ways that we in America are poverty-stricken.

Like joy.  I know many tv commercials use pictures of skinny, sad and hopeless looking people to help you understand the need that is in this world, but that is NOT the picture I see as I walk through these compounds.  Ask anyone who has ever traveled to a third-world country, and I guarantee you that one of the first things they’ll say is, “I was overwhelmed with the amount of joy these people had.  I mean, they have SO LITTLE, and yet somehow they are so happy and thankful.”  Zambians are literally the nicest people I have ever met.  You rarely see them without a smile on their face.  They sing with more passion that any worship team I’ve ever heard.  They dance like they’re in the presence of Christ himself.  And they laugh endlessly.  Even though they don’t have nice houses or cars or clothes or even food (or maybe BECAUSE they don’t have all these things), they wake up every day with hope in their hearts and a smile on their face.  And then I look at my home country; a place so battered with issues of jealousy and depression and suicide, and I have to wonder what’s wrong with this picture.  How have we missed the point?

Zambian culture is rich in tradition, based on the foundations of family, faith and work.  Zambians are some of the hardest working people I have ever met.  Even though the country has an 80% unemployment rate, by no means are the people just sitting around at home twiddling their thumbs.  They are waking up at dawn to work the ground before it gets too hot.  They are cleaning every corner of their houses every day.  They are walking miles to gather water and charcoal.  But they also understand the value of REST.  I think that is the one of the biggest differences I have noticed between Americans and Zambians.  No one “brings the office home” with them after they have knocked off for the day.  Once they’re home, they are HOME.  Time to rest, watch some tv and refuel for the next day.  On Saturdays, most shops close early so people can enjoy their weekends, and many stores aren’t open at all on Sunday.  They still get everything done that needs to get done, and I’ve never met a Zambian who seems stressed or overworked.

And their idea of family is totally different from the western mentality.  For people in the west, your “family” normally means your immediate family.  Your parents and siblings.  That’s all.  Those are the people who live in your house, and you see your “extended” family a few times a year.  But in Zambia, “extended” family is a foreign concept.  Zambians call their cousins “brothers” and “sisters” and their aunts and uncles “mom” and “dad.”  I have never been to a household where JUST the immediate family stays; normally there is an extra niece, nephew, sister, mother, grandmother, etc.  When a family member dies, there is always someone there to take care of the children left behind.  Most people you ask did NOT grow up just staying with their parents.  They may have spent a few years with their auntie and a few years with their bambuya (grandmother) and a few years with their elder sister and so on.  These relationships are not always perfect or loving, but they are carried out with a deep sense of loyalty and tradition.  Can you imagine if there was no need for orphanages or nursing homes because families just took care of one another?

On a side note, I think this value of family (and relationships in general), is at the heart of one Zambian tradition that used to confuse me.  When I first got here, I would have friends call me every day just to say “good morning!” or “good night!”  I must admit, it was slightly annoying, but I had to get used to it.  Now after having been here for 7 months, I’m starting to understand it.  I honestly think it’s just that Zambians value relationships SO much, that they hate going even a single day without talking to the people that they love.  So no matter how short the conversation may be, they simply want that person to know that they are thinking about them.  And I think that’s pretty awesome.

I wish I could carry a video camera with me at all times and capture the beauty that is in the people of Zambia.  I wish you could feel the excitement and pride that builds every time the Zambian National Football Team (reigning champions of the African Cup!) is about to take the field (like TODAY for instance).  I wish you could hear the endless chatter of the women at the market, sharing with their friends as they sell their vegetables and spices.  I wish you could see the debates that are televised on tv between high school students from around the nation; students who possess more knowledge and passion and articulation than I have ever seen.  I wish you could feel the hospitality of every home I’ve ever been to; people who offer the best of what little they have and who joyfully take the time to visit with new friends. 

Ultimately, I wish you could see Zambia the way that I have come to see it; a vibrant country filled with hardworking, joyful people who are bursting with potential.  They are not to be pitied or looked down upon, and if I have ever said anything to perpetuate that image, I apologize.  I pray that anyone who gives to Haven of Hope (or similar organizations) does not give with the motive of “saving the poor African children.”  Am I saying that we should stop helping people in third world countries?  Absolutely not.  I’m simply saying that when we DO help, we should do it for the right reasons.  Yes, these people may have a lack of resources and opportunities, but that does NOT mean that they lack the ability to love or dream or think for themselves.  They are each unique individuals, just like you and me.  They love their families, are proud of their country and have plans for their futures.  They may need a little help to ensure that they fulfill those plans, but that does not mean in any way that they are incapable of reaching them.  They are intelligent, resourceful, funny, kind, diligent and above all, HUMAN. 

When I read through the Gospel, I never see a picture of Jesus pitying the poor.  Yes, he loved them and YES, he called the rich to help them; but not because the poor are somehow LESS than the rich.  In fact, Jesus said, “BLESSED are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”  I pray that we first-worlders continue to have our eyes opened to the need around the world, and I pray that we are moved to action.  But I also pray that we never lose sight of the PEOPLE.  That we never forget that having money does not make us better than anyone else.  That we look for the many ways we can LEARN from the people of third-world countries, who seem to understand what is truly important better than us.  And that we give because it’s the RIGHT thing to do, not so that we can feel better about ourselves.

If nothing else, I hope that my experiences in Zambia and this blog help to repaint a picture of Africa for those of you who have never been here.  I hope that you start to see its beauty more than its pain and its strength more than its poverty.  And I hope that in some small way, you come to love this place like I do.

Thanksgiving.

I know everyone in America just celebrated Thanksgiving, but for my church here in Zambia, “Thanksgiving” is the last Sunday of 2012.  We’re all going to write letters expressing our gratitude for everything God has done this year and commit 2013 into His hands.  If I’m being 100% honest, I’m a bit overwhelmed by this task.  I mean, where do I even start??  So much has happened this year, and I am beyond thankful for every moment.  I’m sure I will forget some of the incredible blessings I have experienced this year, but here is my list so far…

I am thankful for an incredibly loving and supportive family who moved me to State College, PA only a few weeks after hearing I had decided to completely alter the course of my 2012.

I am thankful for the unexpected family God provided for me during my stay in State College the first half of this year. 

I am thankful for a list of many “firsts” I got to experience while living with the Smiths, which included: 4-wheeling, watching lambs be born/bottle feeding newborn lambs, hanging clothes on a line (I know!), planting a garden and driving stick shift.

I am thankful for the role God gave me while I lived with the Smiths; grateful that I came into their lives when they needed it most and that I was able to help in some small way.

I am thankful that even in a tough economy, God opened doors for me to have 3 part-time (and very flexible) jobs that allowed me to raise funds for my ministry in Zambia.

I am thankful for countless mentors in my life who have poured into me and shown me what it means to be a godly woman, teacher, friend and (someday) wife and mother.

I am thankful (and utterly humbled) for so many generous people who sacrificially gave money so that I could follow God’s calling on my life.

I am thankful for the opportunity to speak at Grace Prep/Pure Freedom’s Living Letters Banquet.  7 years after attending the banquet where I first heard about Zambia, I was able to return and tell my story.  (Which is really just His story.)

I am thankful for the chance to celebrate with my family as my beautiful sister, Ashley, graduated from Taylor and my sweet brother, Austin, graduated from high school (preparing to also attend Taylor) before I left in June.

I am thankful for an incredibly fun last night in America as I got to see Wicked on Broadway with 3 of the Smiths.

I am thankful for Shannon Morrison who was the first American to work with Haven of Hope long-term.  She truly paved the way for me, and spending time learning from her in June was an incredible blessing.

I am thankful for trips to Nsobe Game Park with 2 schools of kids who have never seen the wild and wonderful animals that live in their own country.  I’m thankful for “ooh’s” and “ahh’s” and looks of amazement and childlike wonder. 

I am thankful for the mixed tears of joy and sadness that were shed at the Airport in Ndola as Shannon, her parents, and Kara left me by myself last July.  The tears of sadness just reminded me that I had people in my life whom I love and who love me and that is worthwhile.

I am thankful for the Banda family who took in yet another strange American girl.  Words cannot express how grateful I am for the food they have made, the advice they have given, and the love they have shown.  They are my family and that is something I will take with me forever.

I am thankful for 4 Zambian teachers who want to learn from the “professionally trained teacher,” but who have taught me more than they will ever know.  The time they sacrifice and the love they give to our students is inspiring.  And they do it all ON TOP OF making food for 60 kids every day!

I am thankful for 120 students who have more strength and grace than I could ever hope to have.  I am thankful for the small moments, the endless laughter, the frustrations, the dreaming and the slow but steady improvements.

I am thankful that a walk down my dirt road led to meeting one of my best friends here in Zambia, who then invited me to church.  That church has since become a huge part of my life here in Luanshya and I am so thankful for people who treat me like “Amy” and not just “some white girl.”

I am thankful for amazing technology that allows me to stay in touch with loved ones and share my story with the world. 

I am thankful for autobiography assignments for my grade 5 students that give me a deeper insight into what my kids are coming from and how important our schools are.  Deaths of parents, bouncing from home to home, lack of funds for any kind of education, 13 year olds who can’t read or write and utter hopelessness gave way to something beautiful when they were offered the chance to attend Haven of Hope.  THAT is what I get to be apart of.

I am thankful that my transition to Zambia has been utterly seamless and that (as another missionary friend so beautifully put) the Holy Spirit has shielded me from any kind of homesickness that would affect my ministry here.

I am thankful for health and safety during my time here thus far.  Yes, I may have had some stomach issues and some weird boils, but I have NOT had malaria like every other person I know here in Zambia and I have NOT been hit by any moving vehicles…which is a pretty big deal if you know me at all J

I am thankful that I got to hold a crying boy in the school office for 20 minutes after he didn’t receive a Christmas card from his sponsor in his gift bag.  Yes, it broke my heart to see him sad, but it also reminded me just how important our ministry is in the life of these students.  I am also thankful that I was able to cheer him up by offering to write him a letter myself.

I am thankful that when I was least expecting it, a godly man came into my world and turned it upside down.  In a country filled with boys who don’t know how to be men, he is hardworking, respectful, gentle, caring, selfless and kind.  I am beyond excited to see what God has in store for us in 2013.

I am thankful for visits from the Haven of Hope team that (while exhausting!) rejuvenates our vision for the ministry and encourages my heart.

I am thankful that God has provided for my family financially so that they can ALL come visit me in one week and experience this place that has such a pull on my heart.  I am so ready to share my Zambian life with the people who mean the most to me.

I am thankful for the year that has been like a dream-come-true, only better.  No, it hasn’t all been perfect, but it’s been GOOD and I have learned more than I can share.

And I am thankful for you, reading this post.  I am thankful that I have a story worth sharing and that there are so many people around this world who support and encourage me every step of the way.

I can’t wait to see what happens in 2013.  It’s hard to imagine that it can be better than 2012, but I know that whatever it is, I’m ready for it.  I’ve been reminded over and over again that God’s way is ALWAYS best and I am done trying to do things my way.  Nothing I could have come up with would compare with this life I’m living now.  I pray that you know, or are learning, that beautiful truth as well.

God is good. 

All the time.

The Why.

I sat in youth group today and almost started weeping with joy as something FINALLY clicked.  It’s like I was given another glimpse into God’s heart and blessed with the “why” to my 7 years of waiting.

Everywhere I turned this week, someone was talking about the pain of waiting on God.  Ironically, I was the first person, as I shared my life-verse (Philippians 1:6) and part of my testimony in church on Sunday.  It felt like I was coming full-circle as I stood and declared to my Zambia family that God is GOOD and He DOES keep His promises.  And then the Pastor shared his message for the day, which was about dealing with disappointment and how to stand strong while waiting for God to come through.  And then today I showed up for youth group, exhausted from a morning of swimming and wishing I could just take a nap, and it felt like God was whispering into my ear the whole time, “You see?  Do you get it now??”

Our deaconess, Lisa, actually forgot that she was facilitating the “open sharing” time today and hadn’t come with a topic to discuss.  She thought for a few minutes and then turned to Genesis and read the story of God’s promise to the childless Abraham.  I’m pretty I was the reason God made her turn to that story.

It seems like everyone in Zambia is waiting on something.  There are 18 year olds in grade 9 because they have to keep pausing their education as they wait on the funds to continue.  There are thousands of 20-somethings sitting at home, praying for a job to help them pay for college, but facing the catch-22 that most jobs require a college education.  There are godly women who are desperately trying not to give in to the cultural pressures of settling for the first man who offers to pay your dowry.  There are families who can’t remember the last time they ate meat or something truly substantial.  There are millions of people with AIDS, living in fear as they pray day after day for something to undo their death sentence.

And instead of asking me how I deal with the pain of waiting, Lisa asked us how we look into the eyes of a desperate mother who can’t feed her children and tell her that God SEES and He is COMING.

And this is when the floodgates burst open.

I sat there and thought of the beautiful people I greet every morning as I walk to school and I realized (again) how different our lives are.  I realized that I don’t know the pain of losing a mother or a father, or God forbid both.  I realized that I don’t know what it’s like to go to bed hungry.  I realized that I don’t know what it’s like to stay awake at night trying to figure out how to pay rent or school fees that are long overdue.  I realized that I don’t know what it’s like to sit anxiously in a doctor’s office, praying for a negative result.  But I DO know the pain of waiting.

I know all too well how Habakkuk felt when he cried, “How long, O Lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen?”  I know what it’s like to pray year after year for God to fulfill his promise to you, wondering if He’s forgotten or changed His mind.  I know why so many of David’s Psalms are filled with his tears and anger and pain, crying out for a God that He KNOWS is capable of ending his trouble, but for some reason won’t. 

And if things had gone MY way; if I had never experienced the anguish that comes in the waiting, I would NEVER be able to look any of these beautiful people in the eye and testify to God’s faithfulness.  It would just be another wall separating me from the people I’m trying to love. 

But now.

Now I can sit in youth group and hear my friends share their worries and fears and heartaches and confidently tell them that God sees.  I can assure them that my story is NOT one-of-a-kind; God does not simply love me more than anyone else on this planet.  Now I can read through the Bible with new eyes, seeing the countless stories of people who went through this same pain and ended up with a story declaring God’s goodness.  Now I can encourage everyone I meet with the truth that I WAITED on God and it was WORTH it.

To add even more chills to my chill-filled body, Pastor ended our meeting with a passage from Isaiah.  A passage that I’ve ONLY ever heard Dannah Gresh speak on.  Dannah, my beautiful “mother” who started this whole journey.

And this is what it says:

But Zion said, “The Lord has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me.” 

“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?  Though she may forget, I will not forget you!  SEE, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands!”

Oh, how He loves us.