A Cultural Exchange (My Identity Crisis Continued)

A cultural exchange

I sat in the living room of our next door neighbour in Sydney as she discussed cultural norms with my mother and I. Family were running late (on "Island time" as she described it- "Island time" is akin to "African time") and her (representing Tonga although her mother was born in Samoa then adopted by a Tongan family) and my mother who is Samoan born and raised in Samoan culture till she married my Greek Father and they two became one and adopted a New Zealand way of life.  A "way of life" would be one way to describe "culture". They talked about things such as what you should say, the reverence "Reverends" attain in island culture, and the difference between getting on a packed public bus in Sydney compared to doing the same thing in the islands- one makes room and another attempted to make her feel inferior.

Somehow my mind wondered back to a time when I first discovered the difference between Island cultures. I had gone to High School on Auckland's North Shore at a private Catholic Girl's school where the main demographic make up was Caucasian/European New Zealanders, a few Asians and Indians and then there were the Islanders. The Islanders in my year at school were made up of Maori mixes (because pure indigenous New Zealanders don't exist anymore), a Tongan, Samoan, me, and other variations of Island blood... Basically, we were the brownies and we mixed because we had a commonality that stemmed back to our forefathers coming from a place called Hawaiki.

I had always been the brown girl in a class of pale skinned friends. I was the minority often yet very rarely felt it until we went to Australia and felt the sting of undeserved, uncalled for racism. It came in the form of words such as "blackie" and "Darth Vadar" and made this six to eight year old child feel inferior and unwelcome.

By the time I reached High School however, we were back in New Zealand and a new problem surfaced. I knew very little of my Island culture and I wanted to know more. A "palagi" girl stood on stage at assembly one day and told of a term she spent in South Auckland on what was called a "Cultural Exchange." It was a program that was brought out a few years earlier to allow students from one school of a certain cultural make-up experience that of another. Since my school was a predominantly European make-up, she went to a school that was only 30 minutes away but was made up of a predominantly Pacific Island student body.  As soon as I heard about this, I wanted in!

I applied and was accepted to go the next year.  I was so excited about going and being a part of not just a school environment that was different to what I was used to, but also to a family environment that was different to what I was used to.  The school was in a suburb where a lot of my extended family lived and it had hosted the previous Polynesian Festival which was the highlight of a teenage Polynesian's year in Auckland! (Especially if you lived on the North Shore and didn't get enough interaction with other Poly's like yourself.)

Anyway, the three months I spent in South Auckland at Nga Tapuwae College (as it was called then) were, to say the least, LIFE CHANGING! I discovered that even though I looked like I should fit in, my cultural upbringing and the experiences I had had, or my lack thereof, meant that I felt JUST as, if not more, out of place then I had all my life. I had to wear my home high school uniform which made me stick out like a sore thumb but I also had little cultural knowledge of what was acceptable behaviour and because I LOOKED like an Islander who SHOULD KNOW how to behave, I failed at meeting the expectations of my peers.  So I found friends who existed outside of the culture I should have fit into.

One thing that really shocked me, other than my inability to "fit in", about this whole experience was that I was no longer the brown girl.  I was the half caste girl.  All of the Island cultures had segregated themselves and hung around with their own cultural groups where they spoke their mother tongue to each other, they often went to the same churches, or they belonged to the same cultural group in the festival. There was the Tongan corner, the Samoan corner, the Cook Island group, the Niuean group and then there was a whole other school within the school for the Maori students.  I had come from a place where there was unity among all of us islanders and gone to a place where there were obvious boundaries around who belonged to who. Colours had been associated with certain Islands, tension was felt and trouble brewed.  And amongst them all, I fit nowhere. I wasn't truly Samoan and I didn't even know how to behave Samoan in a context of peers so I found some Cook Island friends and I struggled internally with it all.

Right now there's some racial tension happening in my heart country. I came to a country where I thought that everybody was Ethiopian...but I've had discussions over the years about history and language and culture and I've discovered that some people don't see themselves as Ethiopian but rather as a representative of the tribe that they are from. I've learnt that there is a type of segregation within a city like Addis where certain areas are affiliated with a certain tribal group. You can learn about cross cultural tension just by being in one city. You can also experience the beauty of the diversity that each of these regions hold. 

The beauty of culture, however, is marred when we decide that ours is better than anothers. It's called elitism and it comes at the cost of others feeling inferior and feeling left out. It happens all around the world. What we need is a REAL cultural exchange. We need to exchange our earthly culture for our Kingdom Culture,

Someone recently said to me, "Where there is no common vision, there is Division." This is true for countries, for churches, for marriages.  A shared vision is so important in establishing a place where Peace can reside.  I think even in the church these days we get too caught up in denominational boundaries. We look at the culture and doctrinal beliefs of our BROTHERS AND SISTERS in Christ and we set ourselves apart from them and sometimes maybe unintentionally, setting ourselves ABOVE them. 

I've had the privilege now of speaking and attending many different churches around the world and what I've come to realize is that if we believe in Jesus and are saved by His blood, we have the same blood running through our veins. We are in fact family and our Father God has called us all to be united. We work for one God, for one Kingdom purpose therefore we should take the advice of Paul as He wrote to the people in Phillipi from his jail cell...

Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion,  then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind.  Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves,  not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others

Phillipians 2:1-4

Here is the justice cry for people divided- an answer for what they struggle to find- be humble and value others above yourselves. Unity is a part of justice being established.

Please continue to pray for Peace in the land of Ethiopia. Pray as a united body in this time for a common cause. We are one in Christ. Be blessed

The Hands that God uses..

The room was silent as people gathered to worship and praise God on this sunny Addis Ababa Sunday morning.  Unlike the church gathering that was happening outside in the main building where speakers were being set up with intercoms into the wide open spaces outside the auditorium, this gathering required no such projection of sound.  The people who were gathering in this room were people who had no capacity to hear, mostly no function to speak yet had hearts to communicate and participate in the very same message that was being purveyed in the room next door.

As they gathered, silence filled the room. Arms swayed and fingers so limber, oscillated back and forth as communication transpired between souls.  A stillness came as everyone knew the time to begin the service was approaching and my heart sighed “Oh Lord, how we need this quietness in our lives.” How much better off are these that can’t hear an external noise so that they can hear an internal voice, know your presence and find contentment in silence.

The silence spoke loudly to my noisy soul. 

There was such a beautiful exchange of language as body movements and eye contact necessitated an exchange of deepness. I was floored.  Messed up as the flood gates of my tear ducts opened.  Thankful for what I did have and jealous of what they did. Another revelation came to me as we sat as a family and a team and observed this service for almost two hours. 

Just as hands can be used when mouths and ears aren’t functioning as they should, so God will use whatever instruments are available to get His message across.  In fact, His Grace causes unsuspecting instruments to be fit for use in extraordinary ways.  When original default settings for functions dysfunction, God will change the default setting. 

We see in the Bible and in history, God using people who society would reject as useful.  We see different parts of the body being used for functions they weren’t created for.  We see a prostituted woman on the walls of Jericho make a way for the Israelites to overtake the land; we see an orphan girl and her Uncle Mordecai save their people from a position of power; then there were those fishermen who Jesus called out of their lifestyle to be his followers and establishers of the first church.  God’s grace causes unsuspecting instruments to be fit for use in extraordinary ways.

Jesus fully offended people by associating with, eating with, hanging out with people society and the religious crowd, rejected.  He still continues to confuse and offend with the people He chooses to speak through, love through, build His Kingdom through. His treasure stores in jars of clay. 

Clay Thick heavy soil that is soft when wet but molded and shaped, placed through the fire to reinforce it’s shape yet still so vulnerable to breakage when pressure comes. That’s us. Does it make us useless? Heck no! It just means that we are those unsuspecting instruments fit for use in extraordinary ways.

Like sign language is so different to spoken word, so our expressions, our language per se, can also be different to what people may expect.  But God sees our uniqueness and He embraces it. He sees the beauty in the language we speak and love that we portray on His behalf.  Be satisfied with who you are and the message you portray with the voice God has given you. 

You ARE His message- not just His messenger. Your life speaks volumes. My life does too. Live it WELL!

Deliver Us From Evil

"This work is spiritual warfare", advised the founder and director of a large local NGO who previously had a contract with an International organization to implement a project for women in prostitution in our town. "But we don't have time for spiritual warfare", he continued so as to explain the cessation of that particular attempt at meeting the needs of the local community. His subsequent advice to me - "Pray!"

When Jesus was teaching his followers how to pray, He included some key components to successfully address all of the areas in which God is willing and able to work on our behalf.

"Our Father, who art in heaven... "

"Deliver us from evil" was one of those key components. Evil is real. It's out there on assignment ready to take captive those who are living unaware. Unaware of its schemes', its subtlety, its power. It doesn't work alone but it has legions of soldiers in it's army that are ranked and are ready to attack on any given victim, in any given region, at any given time. And if that civilian is unaware they are even under attack...they will be captured.

And Jesus concluded his prayer with "deliver us from evil. For Yours is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory Forever and Ever!"

The battle begins in the mind and it is won or lost in the spirit of the man or woman. It happens in agreement with the victim. Like Eve believed the lie of the serpent "did God really say?" So too when we believe the lie, A lie, A whisper of doubt or fear, even a subtle thought that we are not good enough, our lives are not "fun" enough, our body is not "beautiful" enough...so too do we fall into a trap. We sign the dotted line and miss the fine print.  Evil is moving in!

Over the past few years God has taken me on a journey of discovering more about the evil that we battle against.  Growing up in a home where mental illness confused and scared the living "daylights" out of me. It also welcomed the darkness of evil in. The spirit of fear took up residence for longer than I had prepared to pay for it to stay. I however, was totally unaware that it was winning this battle in my spirit and it became a part of who I was. It influenced my decisions, my relationships, and it manifested in my dreams.

It wasn't until I became a bystander of someone else's fear that I was able to face my own. It wasn't until EVIL literally came and slapped me on the face, that I was able to see it for what it really was- an enemy to be reckoned with and a resident that was overstaying in the heart and mind of the person that mattered most to the ones I loved the most.


Me.

So I cried "deliver me Lord from this evil." Well actually it was a bit more dramatic than that but we wont go there this time. It took people who knew what they were praying against and the authority they were praying with. But not every experience of deliverance is the same.


Ok so going back to the story I began with. Part of my own journey's purpose was to prepare me for what I would encounter here in Ethiopia. Every Wednesday at Zion church where I first visited on our first week in Ethiopia, people squish into the uncomfortable wooden chairs for up to six hours on end to receive a word, a healing but more often than not, a deliverance from evil. Its real and it's raw and its pretty rough.

Unlike my experience, the experience of many here; through ancestral practices or through animistic worship, evil spirits are actually welcomed in to become resident in ones body, ones home or ones family. (We think we don't do that in the west but we do - through mediums or clairvoyants, through séances or Ouija boards, through alcohol or drug abuse or very simply by just believing a lie.)

The deliverance that occur every Wednesday at Zion Church and frequently at most protestant churches around Ethiopia, are the result of a prevalent darkness that has come down through the generations as the result of curses, witchcraft, demonic worship and idol worship sometimes associated with the Orthodox beliefs that are particular to Ethiopia.

Now take that background from which most of our women come from, then add a lifestyle of sexual exploitation which often comes as a result of sexual trauma, neglect and rejection; add to the mix a hardened heart who has built up walls or strongholds against the things of Light and you can see a better picture of what we are facing.

The restoration of lives who are bound up, occupied, deceived and discouraged takes place over a period of time. A life time. So we pray "deliver US from evil" and we bring truth to undo all the lies the evil has planted to make his way IN and we seek to break down the walls that are built up around their hearts. All of us as we go into this battle together. And we see Him set THEM free as He set us free.

"Transformed lives, transform lives."

God has called us out of darkness into His glorious light and He gives us ROYAL status. He is more powerful. He grants us freedom and victory. He desires to deliver us from evil, just as he desires to give us our daily bread. That's why He tells us to ask Him to do it, because He knows only He can. And He too has legions of a greater population that are out for our good, to wage the war in the spiritual realm where we can not go.

Gods plans for us are for good and not for evil. To prosper us not to harm us. To give us hope and a future! Jeremiah 29:11

Please join us in this battle. Pray for our ministry in Ethiopia. Especially as we take back territory the enemy has held captive for far too long. We need more soldiers in the battle. Come join the winning team! "For Thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory! Forever and ever, Amen."

Red Lights and Beating Drums

“The drums, they are summoning you in” Saba warns me as the beat entices me to see what lay behind the curtained doors. It’s the Amhara drum that’s playing and it plays fast and it plays loud. Amhara region is the second largest region in Ethiopia.


It’s home to 21 million of the most beautiful people in the world. These people are the holders of the national language and a deep culture that reaches back into biblical times. 80% of the people in Amhara are Orthodox while only 17% are Muslim born again or Protestant 0.02%.  Orthodoxy has granted many men the right to marry young girls even less than ten years old for far too long, yet apparently that culture is changing. Without knowing all of the facts and figures, we know that partly due to this, we find 70% of prostituted women around the country are from the Amhara region.




It’s a Thursday night and six of us, two of the new staff for the Bahir Dar EWAR project, Mesfin (who is helping to get this whole project started as part of his outreach project with E3) and the three of us from Addis Ababa and Debre Zeit, scale the streets of the city to see the context of prostitution in Bahir Dar...at least in the case of the women EWAR will be working with over the next year.

The women cleaning up what will be their temporary project site

“The women” are the twelve we met with today. Some of these women had been approached more than a year ago by an Evangelist called Solomon who works for a local Kale Hiwot (meaning “Word of Life”) Church. While they have waited for a year for this project to get started, other ladies have since been approached and took the chance for change by coming to our drop in sessions yesterday. Here they shared their stories, what they would do once their hope was renewed and what they have in their hands to make it happen.




One lady, not much younger than I, spoke of how she had looked up to the prostituted women who worked in her neighborhood as a little girl. Orphaned and alone, she started working the street in her teens, falling pregnant and being left alone again, she kept working. For seventeen or more years….she kept working…to provide for her two children and to survive. Her desire was to be beautiful like the women she saw, all dressed up and made up. Her beautiful skin that glowed over her defined cheek bones hid her wounded heart. She has had enough now. Her youngest son is now ten and she wants better for him.

Mesfin (from e3) and Saba from Ellilta Women at Risk on the shores of Lake Tana

So we walked down the streets that these women have worked for so long. These streets are dark and they are unpaved. They’re narrow and cold and they beg for me to look down so I don’t trip up, rather than look up to see what we were really there for.  I almost wish I didn’t look up.




Red lights illuminate the muddy urine smelling paths. The men who urinate on these roads are only down here for one purpose. It’s not a thoroughfare, but rather a well designed lure for men wanting an irresponsible encounter to appease their sexual appetite. And the girls are there just waiting.




Unlike I have ever seen before, or expected to see, these girls have their OWN room. Their rooms are decorated with flashing lights and enticing bed dressings. Plastic weaving covers the mud walls and TVs blare to keep the girls occupied while they wait. The atmosphere feels so alone and so commercial.




Gorgeous Ethiopian girls (and I mean most of them ARE just girls in their teens) who grow up in a culture where life is all about community and communal living, about sharing rooms and plates and hearts, stand idle by themselves at the doors of their own little room. One girl sat looking out from on her bed that tonight she will service many men from (so she hopes) and her loneliness is tangible. My heart breaks for her and the many girls who stand alone in their red rooms and tears start to flow unexpectedly down my face. The sadness of the situation, the desperation that has caused them to give themselves away like this, causes our hearts to sink. I am not alone in this heart break.




After pulling myself together and taking a quick bathroom break, we round the corner and see these men. They’re lining the walls and seats of a local bar, preparing themselves for the night which has barely just begun at 8pm. They’re quiet and they’re rowdy, inviting us to ‘DRINK!’ They won’t stay long before all these brothels we saw with open doors and waiting girls are occupied by them.




This bar is situated on a street where a broker, known to traffic these women in from the rural areas, operates his business. Some of the women, according to Mesfin our guide, are sent to be house workers, others stay here in what is the capital of the Amhara region and work the bars, while others are trafficked into the Middle East. Others are trafficked into bordering countries North of Ethiopia and not too far from this city’s borders. Promises of a better life and better income beguile many young girls to leave their familiar to support their families. She’s not just thinking of herself but of her family and she will pay a high price for it.






The ladies who are about to enter the program tell us how much they get paid. Sometimes they will be paid as little as 10 birr (50c US) per trick, sometimes the man will take her out for a meal as his payment and sometimes the payment she gets is a beating- a night of abuse for the giving of her body. They get away with nothing if the man is so obtuse that he won’t even pay for her service. Unlike her, he’s just looking out for himself and doesn’t even want to pay for it.


Women at risk are only able to open new projects like these as local people take up the challenge and other people partner financially with the cause. If you would like to support Ellilta Women at Risks work, please go to www.ellilta.org and donate so you can play a part in empowering these women to be all that they were created to be.

I've been wanting to write this story for SO long...

It’s a story of heart break and betrayal.  A story that bears the scars of an inner wound that stings as if it were freshly made, yet it had sunken so deep; buried under piles of rubble and debris of years gone past.  Rubble now named contempt, shame, dishonesty and denial. 

Who knew that a work to heal a broken heart would take so much longer than a year?  And that the revelation of the damage that was done would be discovered amidst the motion of writing…and then sharing with strangers as if dividing it apart to distribute and expose the secretly written to an open audience.  The exposure resurfaced the wound yet it allowed it to heal a new.  Like it had never been healed before.  Actually, in the resurfacing I discovered it had NEVER been healed before.

“Will you grow in tenderness towards the child that has been contaminated by harm?” Dan asks us. 

A room full of people working with people who have experienced harm.  As children and as adults yet they have never found the healing or the hope.   Yet WE offer them that hope and that healing but we were now being challenged to experience it for ourselves.

We broke up into groups of five and shared our stories out loud.  In an uncomfortable silence we awaited feedback from those around us.  Soft tender hearts were there to bear the pain.

“Redemption happens when you allow people to dwell in your heart and grieve and fight for you.”

And then in their grieving they see a perspective of MY story I never saw before.  Like discovering the key to the treasure box that held my healing.  But the healing still demanded something from me.

Again he challenges…”You have to give up a lot to write your story.  We have to give up our loyalties.  It is true that we have a great loyalty to Jesus UNTIL we are asked to give up other gods.  So where do your loyalties lie?” 

Loyalties and honor.  Both touchy subjects that were covered to bring light to the battle that raged in not only our minds but in our world views.  In my world view.  So slowly my loyalties shifted and the loyalty lay in the healing that needed to be done for me, for my family, for my ladies.  My loyalty lay in the Healer. 

So I clung to the process and endured the pain again of the sacrifice.

In the sacrifice and in the honesty that surpassed the desire to dwell with the wound any longer there was a loneliness that begged for me to search deeper to find where God was in that place of pain.

“In beauty there is brokenness.  All beauty bears brokenness… God intends to use the scars to bring Him glory.”

Last year I wrote a blog about God wanting to heal my broken heart.  It coincided with a tumultuous time for me and my family.  I felt a need to drop down, a picture of a falling flat on my face.  So I did it- literally.  Nothing changed.

As we drew near to the end of the story writing workshop I was reminded of this falling down.   At the beginning Dan challenged us with this question- “Can you enter into the stories of death in your own life?  When our lives are meant to tell the story of the death, burial and resurrection of Christ.”

Entering into death is not easy.  It was exemplified in others in my group who had the courage to do so in the company of tender hearts.  Yet I did it in the quietness of my room- I finally found the falling down, the dying.. and as it caused the tears to flow again, I opened my little pink Bible and found solace in the words from the pages that have held my heart afloat for so many years. 

“For you have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you have received the Spirit of Adoption, whereby we cry ABBA Father.  The Spirit itself bears witness with our Spirit that WE are the children of God.  And if children then heirs, heirs of God and joint-heirs with Christ, if so be that we suffer WITH Him that we may also be glorified TOGETHER.” Rom 8:15-17 (emphasis added)

So I am comforted by the fact that I am an ADOPTED child who has been chosen by LOVE (which perfectly casts out all the fear that had taken up reign in my heart) and that in turn allowed me to not suffer alone but suffer WITH Christ, so that we may be resurrected in glory together. 

A story that waited to be written for so long to bring healing to my heart was finally inked onto paper as an expression of the pain.  A pain that I had tried to physically express as a teenager by taking a craft knife to my hands; a pain I had tried to spiritually express as I found Forgiveness that caused me to “forgive” and forget, pressing on but not entering in; a pain that I had let control my emotions more than I had realized as my trying to keep my distance from it turned my face to re-enact it over and over again. 

Yet it was a pain that desired to be entered into like a tomb with a stone that had rolled away, calling out to reveal the light of the resurrection that could only happen upon the entering in- the falling down into the grave that needed to happen for real resurrection and ascension to occur.   And in that ascended place, I am able to reach down again and help to pull those who are still fighting the death. 

The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he has sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised,- Jesus Christ (Luke 4:18)

I used to hate Valentines Day, but now I love it and this is why...

Habakkuk 1:15

Look at the nations and watch-- and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.

I am sitting there, in my early twenties with a baby at home who challenged me every day to be a better person and a husband at work who worked hard to make ends meet for our family and yet I had a dream in my heart that had been silenced by the circumstances around me and the doubt that took residence right on top of my dream.  Yet this widowed lady from America who had come to visit our church passed me a piece of paper with this verse on it FOR me. As if it were a love letter from God.  A message sent from El Roi…the God who sees me.

That dream was to do something significant in Ethiopia- to feed hundreds of starving people, to care for orphaned children, to help in some way to end the extreme poverty that existed in that land.  This piece of paper in my hand made me wonder if that dream would, COULD possibly…ONE DAY come true.

Fast forward 15 or so years.  Here I am, sitting in this house we have just secured a two year rental agreement for.  We (our two friends from Women at Risk and our two potential staff from Zion Church) are strategizing how we can shift six specific women who had made it through the months of trials we had put them through and STILL decided they truly wanted to start a new life.  How we could allow them to move off the street and out of their work as prostitutes and into this home within a five day span.  This beautiful peaceful home is sitting there empty yet full of so much potential- like the women we will work with.  It’s surrounded by rooms that will house the six women who are desperately desiring to get OUT! 

We draw up a list of things we need.  We have applied for funding from three groups for set up costs and running costs yet none are certain and we don’t know if or when any money will come.  So Cherry (co-founder and Director of Women at Risk) halts the meeting and starts to pray.  We ask God to give us a strategy so these women don’t have to wait any longer.  We start to tally up what we ourselves can contribute; looked at our current available resources and we decide that it’s going to happen whether the funding comes in or not.

Excitement fills the once empty house and my friend Abrehet does her happy dance in joyous elation on the empty lounge room floor.  I had met her in 2009 in Nazaret at the Women at Risk site where she was the Co-ordinator of this one of three Women at Risk sites.  She was young and passionate about the work she was doing and she totally won me over.  We had kept in contact over the years and never would have thought that we would be working together to bring about this new project site. The arrival of the women and the beginning of this new adventure felt so close we could almost touch it.

We hear from one potential funder and we sit in the Canadian Ambassador’s Residence in front of a myriad of represented nations.  Cherry tells the story of Women at Risk and everyone in the room is captivated.   The plight of these women echo through the stories and the strategies that this organization now has in place all lined up with the issues that surface because of their histories. 

Serawit (Cherry) Friedmeyer and I in the Canadian Ambassadors Residence

So we await for funding and in faith we plan for the women to come and join us in the house the day we call Valentines.  The day of Love.  How appropriate I think.  I remember the week before we left New Zealand, I stood on the edge of Lake Rotorua.  I was talking to the One who sent us here.  He reminded me of the love story that took one man (Tutanekai) many years before across the lake and cultural boundaries to meet his beloved (Hinemoa) on the island that sat within.  He did this for love.  A voice whispered in the depths of my soul that THIS is what our journey across this great ocean was about.  That He was calling us out over THIS ocean as messengers of His Love. 

His GREAT love that changed my life. 

That rescued me. 

That continues to do so.

And I hear the whispers of the haters.  The enemies.  THE enemy...The one they call the accuser of the brethren.

“Why is that Michelle and Asaua trying to go all the way over there for? I know what THEY’RE like.  They can’t be useful.  They need to help themselves first.  Their own family first. Their own community first.  Their OWN.”

Well somehow we go and we believe and then it comes to Valentines Day 2014 and five ladies drive through the gate of their new home into the shade of the Hibiscus trees.  They are all dressed up with their hair done.  One runs late because she is in the hair salon.  They look like they are going on a date.  “A Valentine’s Date with Jesus.” I say to another.  They look beautiful.  Like they just found Freedom. 

And it’s honeymoon stages and there’s definitely some scepticism and doubts going on.  But within a couple of hours of eating together and coming to an agreement of boundaries about this new space, facilitated by the amazing team from Women at Risk, the hope starts to form.  Repeatedly we hear, “I had no hope.” 

Ellilita Women at Risk is their full name.  Ellilita is the name given to the noise that the women make when they cry out in praise.  Their Vision statement is simply, “Renewing Hope”.  I paint it on the wall so they know. 

We have a vision at the church too.  It includes meeting the needs of the community.  So we collide as, what we call, a Love Triangle.  I am one edge of that triangle to join the two together.  So we begin this new journey, a partnership between E-WAR and Zion (Tsion) Church that will run for the next 18 months.  One man says “a drop in the ocean” BUT drops make ripples and who knows where those ripples will end.  Hopefully this splash will ripple for years to come.

Yes, me.  And yet it’s not me.  People SHOULD look at this and say…that CAN’T be Michelle...or that CAN’T be Asaua.  It MUST be God.  And yes IT IS.  And I remember the verse that starts this blog and I think…If someone would have told me, I would not have believed that I could have been a part of this.  But I am so happy that we can get to be a part of what God was already doing here and help bring together the people from both corners to serve these women and their children. 

Me and my beautiful friend Abrehet at Ellilta Products

Selam, one of the girls in the group.  A girl who’s been through the wars and out again..who has a vision to reunite with her family she was snatched away from.  She grabs my hand and takes me to her new room to show me her new bed and how she has made it all pretty.   A bed that demands nothing from her but rest.  A bed that has no history but is waiting for hers to be written.  A story of Love.  This is what Love is all about.  So now Valentines Love has taken on a whole new meaning. I love it.

When Jesus takes you somewhere, like a real Gentleman, He opens the doors.

I posted on FB, "When God tells you to go somewhere..." but actually, the statement should have been, "When God takes you somewhere..." because when God tells you to go, He goes with you! It's a Divine date between you and He and He's with you all the way, holding your hand, opening the doors and paying for your bill.

Yes, I have been on "missions" before where I thought that it was Divinely led-and may have ended up feeling "stood up" because I had initiated it myself and He wasn't in it AT ALL. But never before have I known like I know now, that He is the one who initiated this "date" and that He is going to be the Gentleman that He is and is going to do all these things-not just for me, but for my whole family.

So, just our date so far and what it has looked like. I talked about the 5am wake up call. This was the "initiation" - the asking of the date. He asked us all to GO OUT (out of our country, out of our comfort zone and out of our family home) - through my husband - and we respond like an excited teenage girl, being asked out by the best looking guy in school, and excitedly give a big "YES" reply!

The next thing God does (again, so gentleman-like) is let our dad (well Asaua's dad, that is) know that He is going to take us out. He does this through a dream that Asaua's dad has the night before Asaua warns him that he has some news. I love it when I hear of men who ask their girlfriends father's for their daughters hand in marriage. It's so romantic and it gives that sense of security to the father, that his daughter is going to be well looked after. It also makes it easier for the daughter to let her parents know that she will be "leaving" them and "cleaving" to her new husband. In the same way, this dream that Asaua's dad had, made it a whole lot easier for us to tell him that WE are not only going, but that we are taking his grandchildren across the other side of the world.

A true gentleman takes a girl out, giving her no obligation to pay the bill - at all. We too have that promise. He's told us to come with Him and to not worry about paying for us. As soon as we said "yes", we have found out a way that we can be supported in the internship that we are going to do for the first year. We also know that after the first year, the organisation that we are going to work with, are able to support us through funds raised in the States. We never would have known this if we had not said yes - IMMEDIATELY.

Just this past Sunday, Ps David McCracken, talked about Faith at our evening service. He said that beyond "incredible" faith, there is "another level of obedience-living in a realm where we don't have the circumstances to manipulate or rearrange-it's called UNREASONABLE FAITH!
Where we don't have a clue how it's going to happen but we know we have a WORD from GOD."

He said that "God is a CREATOR! He creates everything out of nothing! It's not our faith that creates anything but GOD spoke it, so He created it. (What a sense of relief!) But when we BELIEVE it and OBEY it, it draws it (whatever He has spoken into life) into the realm of our reality." Wow!

So, there we were- on Sunday night, thinking of how we are going to be having this big CLEAN UP and Working Bee at our house this Saturday (today as I write this actually) and how we need to put our house on the Market on Monday. I remember as I lie in bed, how originally. perhaps "heard from God," that we should sell our house for $350k. But last year when we had put our house on the market, I was told - after a failed attempt because I was trying to initiate this date- that we would be lucky to get what we paid for it 5 years ago - $310k. So, I thought, maybe we could settle for $325k, sell it privately and not have to pay anyone commission. (Just writing that word "settle", makes me cringe. Settling for the mediocre, is not the way of the Gentleman who asked us out on this date." My faith needed to be a bit more UNREASONABLE than that.

When you go out on a date with Jesus, He really does give you GRACE. Even without MY unreasonable faith, He still comes through...

Thursday afternoon, we get a phone call from our Real Estate Agent from last year. She wonders if perhaps we were interested in putting our house on the Market again. She has a buyer who are with a Government agency. "They have heaps of money", she says on the answer machine, and are needing to buy four bedroom houses in our area and only have a week to use up their budget. They are wanting to come around on MONDAY and want to settle by the end of JUNE (perfect timing for our departure in August.) Best of all, she says we should put the house on at $349k because they're not looking to undercut people, but want to pay the best price.

So we are just riding now, on this conveyabelt of Love. He says to "learn the unforced rhythms of His Grace" and so that is what He is teaching me- or us. He's overlooked our past mistakes. He's saying, come with me and watch how much I ACTUALLY love you. You look beautiful to me. You are my bride to be, and I am going to show You what I have in store for you - if you just TRUST me.

That's a Real Gentleman.