Home is where the HEART is..

I remember the first time I got sick here…

I mean, REALLY head-down-the-toilet-for-two-hours kind of sick.  I was in Nazaret and had just finished my first reunion with the staff there at Women at Risk- a site I had visited two years prior to our return as a family.  I was with Nigist who is now on our staff and who had carried a vision to work with the women on the street of Zion church since her and her husband had planted the church right there smack BANG in the middle of the red light district ten years earlier.

The sickness came on just as we were getting onto the bus in Nazaret for the 45km ride back to Debre Zeit.  It was as if the enemy of the vision was saying…”Let the games begin!”  The enemy of our souls and the souls of the women who were about to be rescued out of HIS clutches put his fists up as if to pick a fight. 

Here the war intensified as we started to make progress towards the vision we both carried.

Just this past week, we met with another NGO who had been given funding to reach the street children and prostituted women of Debre Zeit.  He said to us that what they were asked to do, they couldn’t.  He said “THIS ministry is a CALLING  and it is serious spiritual warfare that takes time to battle.  We don’t have time or resources for that” the director of this mission based NGO concluded.  I couldn’t agree more.  From the GET GO, there has been a war raging that continually we have to guard against and then when we don’t, we have to recover from.  Better be on the “guarding against” side then on the “recovering from” side of the battle- even if it IS “easier to ask for forgiveness then to ask for permission.”

So we are sitting on the bus, buzzing about the meeting we had just had and something in my body told me that it wanted to come out.  We disembark and I find the closest toilet which was in the public bus station and it made it’s presence known by the horrific stench that caused whatever was wanting to come out of my body, to retreat back in.  It held through the next toilet which again begged for a clean and I wasn’t about to clean it.  We have been in the country less than two months and the cultural differences are still being adjusted to.  Clean toilets are still my pet peeve. 

We find a hotel across the road, I’m still holding it in yet the time where this is possible, is running OUT.  So I find a toilet that’s able to capture my stomach’s contents a few times over.  I’m getting put off Mirinda orange with every hurl.  I think about the woman of God who awaits me in the waiting room of the hotel and how great her faith is for healing.  I ask her to pray.  I think about my children and husband at home who await my return and it suddenly dawns on me where HOME is. 

Throughout life, never does “HOME” beckon more than when I am sick or tired.  The call of my pillow and my bed is never LOUDER than when my body calls for it to rest, to recuperate, to heal. 

So here I am, sicker than ever in this new land we have moved to and all the questions of where home is fade away.  Home was calling me and it was calling from Debre Zeit- not Auckland or New Zealand but it called within the confines of Ethiopia. 

This was home.  Home was where my heart was and where my family and I had settled.  This had become our new default when we opened up our search engine and typed in “Home”.  The default was Ethiopia.  Yet our old one still existed in our “History” folder.  Auckland, New Zealand.  This is our other home- the one that holds our heritage, our family- the one that calls when we are sick of our new Home and the things here that frustrate and stir. 

I tell my kids “the bible says not to murmur or complain” this week and they pull me up on my own breaking of this value.  I do it.  These days, far too often.  I repent and move on trying not to do it again.

But on days where we feel ripped off, begged off one too many times, and the electricity doesn’t work for five days, your other home calls all THE MORE LOUDER.  Especially when your eldest son plays his first big rugby game in a huge stadium and his team wins the championship...

And your older sister has just had twin babies and is sending you pics all the time and you realize that this time will pass and they will grow without you’re presence and not only them but the four cousins that have come into the world previously without being introduced to my children over the last three years...it can't pretend that that is easy.

Dallin and Pierce, cousin five and six who have been born while their cousins have been away in Ethiopia!

Sometimes there are days where pain and joy mix as sweetly as peanut butter and jam.  Because the battle here is being won.

In the lives of the women who we work with, battles are being won and the clutch of the enemy is being loosed  Yet on the other hand, the realities of living life as a foreigner in a third world country still exist.  And we asked for this life- I hear the little voice say- and we knew what we were getting ourselves in for…BUT as much as we know the call and obeyed the call, a break from it all and a return to the home that holds our history, continues to INCREASE its volume. 

The battle is being won on the home front too.  This week, we had a cool family time in the midst of the power strike and I tell my kids how when I met their father we were going on a camp and I was “helping” my Aunty and Uncle put together the lists of the teams who would be at the camp.  I sneakily put the new boy’s name (ie Asaua) on the same list as mine.  We end up having to do an item together as a team and we sing this song- a song that at the time of telling the story, totally eluded me- but it’s a song that rings in my heart today. 

The thing is, No matter where home is, if your heart is with Jesus, He is everywhere and we just need to find HIM in the struggle and the pain.  For where He is, there you can be and if you find Him, you find peace and comfort for your soul… And that’s what keeps me going

Here are the words to the song -

I am weak but Thou art strong

Jesus keep me from all wrong

I’ll be satisfied as long

As I walk, let me walk close to Thee

Just a closer walk with Thee

Jesus grant my humble plea

Daily draw me close to Thee

Let it be, dear Lord, let it be.

10 things I had never done before we came to Ethiopia

Tomorrow it is the third anniversary of our departure from New Zealand which means that in thirteen days, we will celebrate our third anniversary of being here.  Boy how time has flown and so much has changed, including dynamics within our family…In our relationships, in our daily lives and in our habits.

There are some things I never thought I would find myself doing until I came here.  Things I had spent so much time instilling into my children have soon gone out the window- like “don’t eat with your hands”- total waste of time.  So I thought I would make a list- not just of things that I have found myself doing, but also the members of my family.  The list could have gone a lot longer but we have limited it to these ten.

1.  Ate a green orange.  So we came here from the land of fresh fruit and vegetables, complaining about the lack thereof in our new found home.  One of the disappointing things for us was the fact that we couldn’t find any orange oranges.  They were all green- as if they had been picked prematurely and that was okay.  While for the first year or so, this bothered us to the point where we would totally abstain, now, we get excited if we find out that these green oranges are cheap and we can buy a few kilos.  Sour and pip infested, we can consume a kilo in a split second.

2.  Picked my nose in public.  Dust and dry environments call for dried up mucus casing your nose.  It’s a known fact and can cause even black dry snots to form in your nose, disallowing you to breathe.  So the fact is, when you gotta pick, you gotta pick!  Not only is this habit culturally acceptable it is quite common and very contagious.  Like a yawn.  You see someone else do it, and your body naturally responds by wanting to do the same thing.  Asaua has even discovered that by picking his nose in public, that he in fact gets less attention by onlookers than he would if he did otherwise.  It’s always good to know what will make one fit in more.

3.  Drove a bajaj.  Actually, we had never ridden in a bajaj until we came to Ethiopia.  It’s now one of our four methods of transportation- other than the horse and cart, the minibus taxi or catching a ride with our friends.  So we have a trusted bajaj driver who has become a family friend, who we can send to get our kids, pick up some materials for our house, get visitors to their desired destinations and teach us how to drive.  On one clear road where most bajaj drivers learn to drive, I have also done the same- this is what I do when I need to get my driving fix. 

4.  Held hands with someone of the same sex for an extended amount of time.  This one’s from Asaua.  It’s true though that most of us have found ourselves been caught in the clutch of someone else’s hand for a longer length of time than we are comfortable with- to the point where we are walking down the road holding that person’s hand in brotherly affection.  What can start off as a shaking of hands can soon become a holding of hands.  And we’ve come to accept it’s perfectly fine for us (as long as the feeling of affection is mutual) but can still initiate a chuckle when we see it with other people.   Yet at the same time it can also create a sigh of relief as we see our brother’s and sister’s here defy consciousness to be so closely reunited with a love one that they have to physically be in close proximity to them. 

5.  Cooked by fire.   Now I’m not talking about Barbecues or gas stoves.  I’m talking about a small metal fire cooker that we originally bought so we could freshly roast some coffee beans on it and look professional while doing it.  Never did we think that we would need to use this many times over for cooking our meals when power would cease to supply.  Personally I have only done this once or twice.  Asaua and the kids have done it more frequently as they have greater patience for it and see it as a novelty.  But what I have also learnt here is that what is a novelty to one person can be a nuisance to another.  And also what is at one time a novelty to one person, can soon also become a nuisance to that very same person.  Bring in no.6.

6.  Rode in a taxi with 23 people.  This is my personal record and I was excited to get a record when a friend of mine told me her record of 21 people.  This is in a 12 seater van where four people fit on two seats, two people sit on the tire hub and maybe a couple of kids are squeezed onto their parents laps.  Of course it’s not only the kids who are on people’s laps- everyone is basically on everyone else’s laps.  My funniest moment in this situation was when we had jumped in a van coming from a distant suburb and more and more people had been added to the van.  A visiting friend of ours was squashed in the back and yelled out to me in the front- “BY THE WAY, DID I MENTION I DON’T LIKE PEOPLE TOUCHING ME?!”  No one in the van other than us could understand what she was saying. It was hilarious.

7.  Ate raw meat.  It’s a delicacy here and originates in a specific region of Ethiopia called the Gurage region.  It is often mixed with butter and beriberi but it basically looks like the packaged minced beef you would buy from the supermarket.  I found out about this delicacy from the ladies at Women at Risk in Nazaret back in 2009 when we went around and asked them what their favourite food was.  This was top of the list.  Eww! Was my first response.  But after you live here for so long and see other people eat it and have it offered to you, it becomes tempting.  So on a couple of occasions now, I have eaten it.  One of those occasions was the girls’ 13^th birthday, after which I was sick for a few days.  At least we can say we tried it!

8.  Preached through a translator.  Actually I hadn’t preached at all in a church setting before we came to Ethiopia I don’t recall.   I had taught in Sunday School or in Youth Group, had shared my testimony in church but had never actually PREACHED to the Sunday morning service.  Funny thing is though, I had always wanted to.  Not to be on stage or to get recognition, but because I felt called to, gifted to and inspired to.  Here we often get invitations to speak (not just Asaua, but ME too!) as having missionary status means we are here to bring the gospel, so it is what we are expected to do.  Doing it through a translator though, adds another dimension.  It calls for trust (because you don’t know if they will actually relay what you’ve said) and patience (because there is a massive delay on both parts as each part is shared.)  We have had many translators here and appreciate each and every one of them for their patience in trying to understand our accents and often random terminologies!

9.    Checked eggs and milk before we used it.  We have made many purchases of milk (which we have to buy in a 500ml non-transparent plastic bag) where the contents have sat in unpowered refrigerators for a day or more and have often ended up on our breakfast cereal.  The same with eggs which have sometimes turned out black or rotten when we have thrown it into our already half prepared cake or omelette mix.  Maybe we should have thought about this earlier but the solutions to such things that we normally take for granted, like fresh milk and eggs, don’t automatically come to mind.  So we have learnt to pour the milk or crack the egg into a separate bowl BEFORE throwing in with some other food.  We hate to waste food here.

10.  Been into a brothel.  While brothel conjures up a different image in different countries, here (in Debre Zeit) it is nothing flash or secretive.  It’s an open room with a bar at the front and a bed either at the front or in the back room.  It’s a place you can freely go into at any given time of the day.  While I never thought this is where we would be, we have found ourselves in a brothel.  The reason being is that our church neighbours a whole bunch of brothels.  They are not just work places for prostituted women but they are also the homes of them and their gorgeous children.  It's not beyond God to go into brothels.  In fact, we can often find Him there- waiting for His children to come and rescue His beloved. 

So we have changed in so many ways.  Living overseas does that to you.  So let us know what you think?! 

Created to be SENT!

From before time began God had a plan. He had a plan for you and me. In fact He said before we were born our days were already written.

Psalms 139:16

Your eyes saw my unformed substance;

in your book were written, every one of them,

the days that were formed for me,

when as yet there was none of them.

Gods intention for us was even greater than our intention for ourselves. Look at the next two verses..

Psalms 139:17-18

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!

How vast is the sum of them!

If I would count them, they are more than the sand.

I awake, and I am still with you.

I AM STILL WITH YOU! Powerful words. We find them in Matthew 28. In what is called the "Great Commission."

Matthew 28:18-20

And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

In some translations, the last statement reads, "to the ends of the earth", a thought that is carried on through in Acts 1:8

Acts 1:8

But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you:and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth.

I am with you even to the ends of the earth. These are the final instructions Jesus gave to the simple men he called his disciples. Where, may you ask, is the "ends of the earth"?   Certainly back when these instructions were given, the known world was a lot smaller.  But in Matthew 12 we see a reference to the ends of the earth in that day.

Matthew 12:42

The queen of the south shall rise up in the judgment with this generation, and shall condemn it:for she came from the uttermost parts of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon; and, behold, a greater than Solomon is here.

This text refers to the uttermost parts of the earth as the the place where Queen Sheba (the Queen of the South) came from.  Ie. The ends of the earth was in fact, Ethiopia (a fact I was just made aware of by author of Jesus in Ethiopia- James Rankin.)

They disciples were not the ones who would go to the ends of the earth though.  Now the ends of the earth are so much greater.  We can now Google Earth our way around in just a few seconds. The ends of the earth are for you and I.

I always find myself going back to Gen 1:27. It reminds us that we were created in the image of God. He perfectly created us to be a reflection of his nature here on earth.

Genesis 1:27-28

So God created man in his own image,

in the image of God he created him;

male and female he created them.

And God blessed them. And God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth.”

Here is our first command to go into the earth. He says to fill the earth. Not to just stay in one place. He says to fill.. Which by definition means "to put someone or something into a space so that is completely or almost completely full." This is the first instruction of mankind.

For this to happen it means there must be some travelling, expanding of existing borders, sometimes self established borders, sometimes borders that are established by nature or governments. But this movement of man was established from the beginning of time.

So of course when God establishes something, the enemy attempts to disestablish it. He questions it in the minds of people... Did God really say that? He whispers oh so subtly. He creates fear in the hearts of people so that they don't ever experience their potential in life. He distorts Gods word to bring about confusion. I know this from first hand experience. From a young age God called me to travel the world but from a young age the enemy planted fear in my heart about travelling. From the time we were in Australia to the times where I had to go to camp in my teenage years- I feared leaving HOME.  That seed was planted in my mind. But the word of God says

2 Corinthians 10:3-5

For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war after the flesh: (For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds;) Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ;

Knowing God is key to bringing down the lies that the enemy tries to place against us.

So God, what are you like?

 If we were created in your image, 

what then am 

I meant TO BE like?

There are many aspects and attributes of God that we could study. Our beginning verses point out some.

He is EVER present. He is OMNIPRESENT.

He is TRIUNE. This is one attribute that sets our faith apart from others. He is three in one. God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit.  Here's some proof ;)

1 John 5:7

For there are three that bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost:and these three are one.

John 1:1

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

The Word is God. Jesus is The Word. Jesus was sent by the Father into the world. He was with God but He was also God. For humans, it would make no sense, but for God, He supersedes sense.

John 3:16-17

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.

God sent His Son. Jesus testified of this over and over again. Just in the book of John, We find Jesus referring to God as the one who "sent me" 33 times. Verses like this one we find in John 4.

John 4:34

Jesus saith unto them, My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, and to finish his work.

Then as He gets ready to depart from this earth, he prays this prayer to His Father for His disciples:

John 17:17-20

Sanctify them through thy truth:thy word is truth. As thou hast sent me into the world, even so have I also sent them into the world. And for their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also might be sanctified through the truth. Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me through their word;

That's YOU and ME. As WE believe through the Word the apostle John left for us, we enter into the "Recipient" file of Jesus' email He sends out right here. He is saying that He has sent US! Hmmm.

John 20:21-22

Then said Jesus to them again, Peace be unto you:as my Father hath sent me, even so send I you. And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and saith unto them, Receive ye the Holy Ghost

John 14:26

But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you.

God the Father sent the Son, the Son sent the Holy Spirit, The Father sent the Holy Spirit, so as we were created in their image, so we too were created to be sent.

God is in the sending business. He is the greatest human trafficker of all time. But unlike those who are trafficked for evil and under great deception nowadays, God directs His traffic of believers into the world to carry His light and truth.  To be carriers of His Love and Presence.

At the end of His prayer to the Father, Jesus says this

John 17:25-26

O righteous Father, even though the world does not know you, I know you, and these know that you have sent me. I made known to them your name, and I will continue to make it known, that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.”

As Jesus was about to leave this earth, He knew that He needed bodies in which to carry out the Fathers will. To carry that great love that the Father had for His son into the world. He wanted that Love to be known in the world. So He I looks for some love carriers. Even if they are jars of clay, they can still carry his love treasure.

Romans 10:12-15

For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; for the same Lord is Lord of all, bestowing his riches on all who call on him. For “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching? And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!”

The pinnacle of the matter is here. If we are not sent, people will not get to hear the gospel. They won't hear it so they can't believe it. People, Gods most prized possession, the reflection of His image will miss out on the destiny here on earth and in eternity that He had lined up for them. All because we don't understand that that desire in us to go into the world is an innate desire that reflects the nature of the One who created us in His image.

I think about that in our life. What if we never came? What if these ladies never experienced the love of God that He had placed in us? Oh we have a great responsibility. It is an act of worship. Of shifting our focus off our own desires and comforts and letting God live His will through us. Abandoning our own agenda for His agenda. That's exactly what Jesus did and expects us to do too.

And if God can use people like US, surely He can use ANYONE. He wants to use those who are willing to GO!

After all I did for YOU!!

I should have been able to tell already by the man in front of me in the queue that this visit to the Transport office was not going to be fun.  Though I couldn’t understand all that he said, I knew from the few words I could understand and his body language that he was letting the lady behind the glass window know about how frustrating the lack of directions and instructions in this office was for him.  Him! The Amharic speaking and reading returnee from Canada.  I was a non-Amharic reading person from New Zealand and all I knew was which window to go to.  I did know though that I could pick up from where he was and asked him to help me get through this gruelling process of acquiring an Ethiopian drivers licence. 

This was not my first visit to the office.  I had been before- a couple of times on information seeking trips with Amharic speakers who at that time gave me some non-conclusive advice.  At that time there was no New Zealand Embassy and authentications were required from them to get our local licences stamped and authenticated as real.  So New Zealand was not even on “the list” of acceptable licences.  I found out later that New Zealanders up until that point had to go to the British Embassy to get our licences authenticated.  Apparently, one of the most expensive Embassies to get stamps from!

I waited.  We don’t have a car, so there was no point in hurrying to get a licence.  I knew the New Zealand Embassy was in the pipelines and our Ambassador had been elected at that point so I delayed the licence process.

Can I just say that again though.  We don’t have a car.  Since the time our first son was born, we bought our first car.  It was 1998 and it was a Toyota Mirage that we bought for 800NZD.  It didn’t take long to save for that car but it was the best thing we could have done with 800NZD.  Asaua had made a pact with himself that when he had a family, that they would never ride public transport.  That was for poor people, he had decided.  And we would at least be able to afford a car.  Back then, petrol was 79c a liter.  For a long time.  That wasn’t hard to do.  To fill up a tank on $20 was not something I never remember complaining about.  It was cheap and we knew it.  We would take advantage of it and go for long drives to the lake on the other side of town (the one thing I missed about living on the North Shore).  Even when we upgraded to the Ford Econovan 12 seater to fit some kids in to take to church, we would load it up with youth and take them for late night swims at our leisure.  This was a leisure that seized once the twins came along and the van downgraded to a people mover and filled up a lot faster with our family taking up most of the room – then all of the room as no.4 and no.5 children came along.

That people mover, we sold for 1000NZD when we left New Zealand.  It helped to move THESE people (us) to Ethiopia.  That was almost three years ago and so for three years we have had no car.  Imagine living without a car.  There’s not the freedom of being able to drive at your own given time at your own given pace.  We have others driving for us in various shapes and forms- all adding to the adventure of life here.  Yet we have no privacy.  If we go anywhere, people know.  People stop and stare and say what they please if unrestrained by common courtesy.  As our daughters develop into beautiful young women, the tendency for men to stare and make innuendos becomes more common.  There’s also the added amount of time it takes to walk to the bus station, wait on the bajaj driver to come from the other side of town that really turns what should be a ten minute trip into a two hour trip.  Then there’s the uncomfortable, undignifying positions you can get into when squashing yourself into a minibus that should seat ten, and you’re the twentieth person to get in.  Or really from the fourteenth on it can get pretty revealing.  In New Zealand we would say, “Oh Novis!”

So this year, we are really, really praying and believing for a car.  We can’t afford to buy one, even if hire purchase was an option as would be possible in New Zealand.  Our support would not accommodate the payments we would have to make on ANY vehicle.  The main reason being that private vehicles in Ethiopia incur a 200% tax.  So that Toyota Estima we sold in New Zealand for $1000 and was probably more likely valued at $5000 would sell here for $15000.  No less for sure.  We can only DREAM of owning such a car here now.  But we are believing for something.  For God to pull through on what WE can’t do, but we know HE can...  For safety, for time, for privacy.  We not only WANT a car, WE NEED a car!!

So as we pray for a car, we are asking a God who created SPACE before He filled it with STARS.  He created land before He filled it with land dwelling creatures.  He is in the business of capacity building so WE need to get a licence in our household so God can supply that licence to drive with a car!! And as I am the only one game enough (or desperate enough) to drive on these roads, I started the process of getting my licence. 

It meant I had to go to our Embassy at the Hilton Hotel in Addis Ababa on one day.  Go to the Foreign Affairs office on another day.  Then go with my documents to this Transport on THIS day.  Almost a month after the last two visits.  Not even sure if I had everything I needed STILL I asked the lady behind the fourth window I was directed to, to check what I had to see if I had everything I needed.  Pushing through a couple of other men, after standing  there in front of her for about twenty minutes, (that MAY OR MAY NOT BE  an exaggeration) I asked that she please just look at my folder. 

Kindly, she obliged then stumbled across my photocopied licence with the stamps I had acquired and paid for from both the previously mentioned offices.  “New Zealand?” she said then promptly went to check “the list”.  This “list” had all the Embassies that they accepted authentications from.  Before they didn’t have it because we had no Embassy, but now that we had one, and our Embassy workers had gained their licences through this process, I was sure that she would come back at me with a grin and a “oh, here it is, yes we have that Embassy on our list!” in Amharic.

Maybe I went there with too high an expectation.  I had told my kids as I left home that morning, that IF (thinking that an IF would be a WHEN) I would come back with my licence that we would celebrate at dinner time.  Maybe I was being unrealistic from the get go.  I mean after all our experiences with government systems and procedures here, there is more likely a rejection and come back with additional papers, than an immediate acceptance.

So the busy lady behind the computer, standing in front of the glass that extended out to the department behind her with hundreds of people (mainly men) waiting in the cold of Addis Ababa’s morning frost, stared back up from the list. 

“No New Zealand”.  “What?” I asked.  “What’s New Zealand?” She repeated as if to say, she doesn’t even know if the country exists.  Stunned at her response and not knowing what to do, I asked what embassy I should go to.  She shrugged her shoulders and went back to her previous file.  “So you’re not even going to help me?!” My last statement was ignored and I walked away.  Her words ringing in my ears.  Our friends had dropped me off at the office so I left with no one to talk to and no credit on my phone to call anyone to debrief (or rant about) my current situation.

I found myself conjuring up a “could have been conversation” in my head.  The one I always have with myself AFTER the fact of the matter has past and it’s too late to respond.  But this time, it went something like this:

“What’s New Zealand?! New Zealand is a country so far away that it took us 24 hours in the air to get here.  It’s the country that’s so full of beauty, the tourism industry is it’s second biggest grossing industry.  It’s a country that holds the people we love so dearly and that often tempts our return with it’s conveniences and comforts that we used to take for granted.  It’s the country that I have had a licence to drive in for almost twenty years!! AND It’s a country that me, my husband and five children left to come and help YOUR people and YOU won’t even help ME!”

My mind had stepped over the boundaries of my own limitations.  “After all I did for you!” is not a part of my life’s philosophy and something that I always have to measure my intentions against.  Maybe it’s the FEAR of holding THIS against someone that was being reflected back on me.  It's so easy when we do something for someone, to think they owe us something in return.  But this is not the way of the Kingdom. 

When working with people, we shouldn’t hold our own sacrifices against THEM.  Jesus never did.  His sacrifice on the cross didn’t necessitate our obedience or loyalty.  That’s our choice that He has given us the freedom to choose. 

“After I all I did for you” conjures up a sense of entitlement.  I am entitled to your loyalty, your reciprocation of my actions, your affection, because I did THIS for YOU!  The thing is that even though we SEE the people we seek to serve, the person we are doing this FOR is for the One who has called us. 

“For what we proclaim is not ourselves but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as servants for Jesus’ sake.  For God who said “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.  But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.  2 Cor 4:5-7

We are but the jars of clay that God has chosen to use as His hands and feet to the beautiful people of Africa.  Jesus emptied himself to come here to earth, so how minute is it to leave our country, to come to this one?  It’s nothing.  In fact, its just our "reasonable service."  (Romans 12:1) It's not even the above and beyond.  And it’s not for that lady behind the desk, or the ladies we work with, it’s for the King of our hearts who loves us so dearly, that He compels us to share His Love with those who may not know it.

As I left the Transport office in my raging thoughts, I went to buy a phone card to top up my phone so I could call my husband.  The man who sold me the phone card was blind.  He had a small stall out at the busy intersection that hosted the Transport office and main road that joined Addis Ababa to the Southern cities of Ethiopia.  Even without the ability to see, he pulled out a 50birr card and then 50birr worth of 10birr bills to change for my 100birr.  “You are so clever” I said to him in Amharic.  “I am,” he replies, “I can run around with my friends and run my business”.  He didn’t let his disability get in the way of him using his ABILITIES to make a life for himself.  Encouraged by his determination, I smiled and went back into a taxi full of 17 people on the 30 kilometer rocky road home.  Ready to come back another day.  

Our Selam and her journey back to find her family.. Shared with her permission

Among the nineteen ladies who came to our first drop in time, she was the one who stood out.  As we questioned those women who had all come off the street of Zion Church about their background and personal details, SHE was the one who stopped the flow of shallow retorts.  

She 

          went 

                      deep. 

Already at the enquiry of her age, we started to question her surety. “22 years” said her baby face. Then as we asked where she was from, an upset arose among the ladies.  As she started to cry, one of the other ladies explained what was really going on.  She could not remember where she was from because she had been taken away from her family at an age where children take for granted where they live and familiar surroundings are just named HOME. 

Selam was not her given name but this was a name she had acquired on the street.  She had been desperately waiting to be rescued for years from this life but knew no other way out.  Until the Great Rescuer came along.  Selam attended all our drop in sessions then the subsequent one on ones, and she was the one who made the biggest upset when we delayed the moving in to the house.  She was desperate for change- not wanting to wait even one week longer!  She was the one I spoke about on Valentines Day.  She was the first to ASK to be taken to church and the most familiar with the Christian songs, yet her story sung the songs of heart break. 

She remembered that her house was near a Livestock market and she remembered her mother’s name.  Yet all other details were still blurry to her.  She knew what region she was from and what religion her family practiced but to decipher what city she could go to find her family was near impossible. 

Recently, she went on a trip with one of our staff to try and find the family she so longed to reconnect with. The family she dreamed of when all her friends were called by theirs and the family she was unjustly taken from at such a young age.  Wogayu, one of our staff had a mother in the same region and she had begun some investigation of which direction they could head.  After coming up with a destination and a budget of time and money they needed to reach there, with our support and prayers, we decided to send them off.

Friday the 13^th was the day Selam and Wogayu left to go on a search for the family that Selam had been taken from many years ago.  From 9am to 10:30 they went to Nazaret, Wogayu’s home town- the place where she once worked on the streets and then had been restored after entering the Ellilta Women at Risk program ten years ago.  Now the home to her Beltena spice business that successfully runs each Saturday during the week by her and throughout the week by her son. 

They set out on a seven hour bus trip down South past Asela to a town called Robel.  Here, tired from their journey and aware of the little sunlight they still had left in the day, they began their search and they started by asking an old lady from the Orthodox Church.  Some of the people there started to help them by taking them around. They started asking people on the road around the city if anyone knew this lady who had birthed Selam.  A first name was all she had. 

That night they found someone who claimed to know Selam’s mother.  Not only did the lady she claimed to be her mother have the same name as Selam’s, but the sister had the same name as well.  The heartbreak came, however, when she told them that the mother had died.  So they went on a search for the daughter to get some more information; the whole while nervous and unsure of what this discovery would reveal.  Upon the finding of her daughter, they also discovered they were Gurage (another tribe far from where Selam was searching) so Selam was relieved that this couldn’t have in fact been her family. 

From 6am they started looking the next day at the market.  They paid a lady 50birr to help them find her.  This lady said she knew a lady by the same name as Selams mother but it was the wrong lady.  She did however come across a familiar face- they found a man in the market who Selam recognized from her childhood.  She excitedly approached this merchant at the market, expecting to have her excitement reciprocated but he didn’t show any recognition of Selam.  Discouraged, they went away and found his son who was willing to help them out, yet with no leads. 

That night, for the second time, they found another lady who claimed to be her mother. This lady had also had her daughter taken when she was five or six and she had the same name as Selam’s mother, but after some questioning, they found out that she wasn’t.  This hopelessness Selam had experienced, was a hopelessness that plagued many other people in rural Ethiopia.  The taking of young girls to do the work of others in more urban settings.

After a restless morning, they went to rest in a hotel reception area and were propositioned by some men looking for a “good time”.  Wogayu was sure to let them know that they were not for sale and that they were women of God.  A great role model for Selam who may not have known how to approach such a situation so fresh off the streets.

Another encounter they had was when they were trying to find a place to have Jebena Buna (the traditional Ethiopian coffee).  They ended up at the neighbour of one place they were directed to where the man inside (an Orthodox priest none the less) was one of Selam’s old customers.  Unaware of their arrival, his wife and children had gathered to make coffee for them.  He sat there trying to hide his face.  He was an onion farmer who had often come to the market in Debre Zeit to sell his produce.  As the Red Light district and Zion Church are both located near the market, often the farmers and merchants who come from the rural areas are the regular customers of these women.  During harvest season they make their homes in with these women and pay meagre prices for bed and services rendered by the prostitutes on the street.

Sunday they went onto the next city where Wogayu’s relative lived- a familiar face and comfortable place to stay was to be a breath of fresh air from the so far discouraging attempts they were making.  He knew the Mayor of the neighbouring city called Dixus so he called him to see if he knew of Selam’s mother and wanted to know if she was there.  A light at the end of the tunnel came as he confirmed that he did in fact know her mom and he encouraged them to come by taxi and meet him at the bus station. 

On their journey, the Mayor had informed Selam’s family about the call he had received and they all started making their way to the bus station.  When Selam arrived she was met by her family- Her mom, wailing and fallen down in unbelief at the return of her daughter- her pregnant sister who fainted at the sight of her long lost sister and her brothers who had missed out the opportunity to enjoy the playful moments of their childhood along with their long lost sister.   A sister they had all assumed was dead. 

Her mother questioned her about personal events that only Selam (or Zerfe as they knew her) would know- what was her nickname, who were the brothers that used to sneak money away from their mom’s purse, also what was the thing she used to drink a lot as a child.  Once she answered them all correctly, she knew this was in fact her daughter.  She also confirmed Selam’s age- she is in fact only 17 years old.  (Needless to say WE are not surprised.)

They heard stories of what happened after Selam had been taken.  She wasn’t the only one who had been taken.  Her neighbour had taken Selam along with her own sister.  The whole village went on a search to find the couple who had done this awful thing.  They would never find them.  They had taken Selam and her sister up North far away from where they lived.  Here this lady sold her sister off to another man while she kept Selam, tortured her, sexually abused her and bound her hand and feet in a dark room.  Every now and then she was sent out to purchase things at the market or shop.  On her travels one day she heard a group gathered singing in one place and she entered.  It was a group of Christians singing praises to their God and worshipping him and speaking of His grace.  She befriended a girl there who would often take her in.  This was her saving grace, even though it meant she would return home late and suffer punishment for it. 

At one stage, this ladies father came to warn her about the wrong she was doing, but the lady, stubborn and evil, planned to kill her father the next day.  Her neighbour, having caught wind of her plans, called her father to have coffee with her and pleaded with him to escape. 

The one who became her owner, also owned a business at the market that caused her to go out and buy and sell in different cities.  One time when Selam was left at home by herself with her husband, he took advantage of her.  He brutally raped her to the point that her dress stained red with the blood that represented the unwillingness of her body for such an act.  Once again, the neighbour lady saw Selam and knew what her outcome would be if this evil lady had come back to find her in this state-knowing that she had been the object of her husband’s affection.  She told Selam to flee for her life and gave her some money to get her to the next town. 

Still only about 9 years old, Selam found herself on the street with nowhere to go.  A nice Christian bajaj driver, took her in to his home and kept her there with his family for two years until he started experiencing domestic difficulties and Selam found herself once again out on the road.  With no education, and nowhere to go, Selam travelled to Addis Ababa and was encouraged by another girl to start working the streets.  Here she would be able to earn an income that would at least keep her alive.  Already accustomed to drinking at a young age, Selam would drink to drown the sorrows that held captive her young and precious soul.

Meanwhile, her family reported, that a couple of years later, the thieving neighbours who had taken Selam from them had indeed returned.  The lady was thrown in Jail but she insisted that she still had Selam safe and sound in another city so she paid 10000birr (the equivalent of around 1000USD at that time) bail to be released from the cells yet she never returned. 

Pictured, Selam with her family and friends before she was taken.  She was eight years old at the time of her disappearance and much loved by her family.  Her disappearance caused her mother to have a nervous breakdown.  Her father had already died

Her family are Orthodox but also practice idol worship and did so in front of Selam.  They also started to drink alcohol while Selam and Wogayu opted for soft drinks.  Selam shared what had happened in her life since her disappearance- including her life in prostitution, the birth and death of her baby as a consequence of her lifestyle and then her rescue from it through our rehabilitation project. She told them all about her life at the Hope House and all the people involved so that her family understood that it wasn’t just Wogayu who had played a part in her life change, not just one person or even a program- but in fact God who had done all this for her.

They were amazed at her new found life and said that they had never heard of people helping people like we had helped them and Selam.  They said that it was a good religion, we are good people and perhaps the religion she had now found was one they had never heard about.  

Wogayu also reported of the demonic possession of Selams mother.  This demon manifested at their meeting.  He was talking to Selam and asking her “why did you leave? You left our “horse” and she was all nervous.” It also went onto ask why she brought Wogayu and why she is praying against them? They said they are good spirits and not evil so she should leave them alone.  Wogayu was in the background praying the whole time and covering Selam with the blood of Jesus. 

Selam also found out she has an older brother in Nazaret and that in fact Wogayu knew this brother- without knowing there was any relation.  He and another brother also plan to come and visit Selam in Debre Zeit.  They came home rejoicing and sick.  All the crying gave them headaches and the sleepless nights too.  God was surely with them and although it was challenging in the beginning, the final result was sweet. 

Just this last week, Selams mother called and asked her to pray for her.  She said that she doesn't want to worship these false gods any more.  That she needs what Selam has and she still deeply misses Selam.  Please continue to pray for this family and for the ripple effects of what this reunion will mean. 

For all of those who have believed in us and enabled us to help bring healing to these women.  WE can't express how thankful we are.  God bless you all.

Almost three years and counting...

A Song of Ascents.

When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who DREAM.

Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then they said among the nations, "The LORD has done great things for them."

The LORD has done great things for us; we are glad.

Restore our fortunes, O LORD, like streams in the Negeb!

Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!

He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.  Psa 126:1-6 

If there is a chapter in the Bible that resonates with my experiences with Ethiopia, it is this one.  Not only because verse 3 was written above the doorway of the first Kale Hiwot church I visited in Ambo, but also because it was the first chapter I heard read in our first church service in the Meseret Kristos Church here in Debre Zeit. 

Then of course there are the practical applications.  Let me break it down.

Verse 1- There are fortunes that once were associated with Ethiopia.  The Queen of Sheba came from Ethiopia to visit King Solomon bearing her truckloads of riches.  I recently found out that some of those riches were discovered in the Northern part of Ethiopia just a few years ago.  The people of Ethiopia have a rich heritage of wealth and prosperity but somewhere along the way, that fortune was displaced.  As a result, the identity has been lost somewhere.  And in that loss, was the loss of their ability to dream.  

When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who DREAM

We who live or have lived in lands where opportunities and possibilities are endless to the point where we attach the word DREAM to our countries identity and vision more often than not take dreaming for granted. We think that the ability to CREATE, to think outside the box, to IMAGINE and ENVISION then build a pathway (often called a Strategic Plan) to see that Vision become REALITY is all a part of life ...but not so for all. 

Years ago a colleague of mine asked me what is my dream. At that stage I was helping other people put together plans and apply for funding to build their community groups. I said that this was MY dream, to help others realize THEIR dreams. But he challenged me to reengage with the dream that I had potentially buried and filed away in the NULL AND VOID folder of my life. I told him of my crazy dream to some day go to Ethiopia. Once that dream had been revisited and reawakened in my heart by the voicing of it, it didn't take long for me to make it happen to explore whether or not this was a God dream or a me dream. Turns out it was HIS.

But what a responsibility we have as Gods ambassadors to reawaken the dream in those around us. That they would become like those of us who take dreaming for granted. I love now to do the favour that man did for me - to ask "what is YOUR dream?" and then when a blank is drawn, to ask again "what WAS your dream when you were a little girl and all of life's cares weren't overwhelming your ability to dream?" then I hear an answer.. And their normally pretty achievable. But they didn't think it was so...

There is a day coming when the fortunes of Ethiopia will be restored and it will no longer be affiliated with the term FAMINE, but the word FORTUNE.  No longer with the word POVERTY but the word PROSPERITY.  I see the sun rising on that day.  Slowly it is bringing hope and the ability to dream again for it’s people.  No longer will the desire to dream be quashed by their own inability to provide for the dream, but even within their very own capacity and God’s provision and restoration dreams will be so big others will be astonished.  

They will say like verse 2:

Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then they said among the nations, "The LORD has done great things for them." The LORD has done great things for us; we are glad

I read this last verse among the verses posted on the Ambo Kale Hiwot church on my short term visit in 2009.  It wasn’t a prophetic statement of what they will say when God restores their fortunes but it resembled their gratitude for what God had already done.  I hear this song of thanksgiving here from the ash heap, from the mud huts, from the under-resourced, unfurnished Sunday school class room.  A song of praise to a God who has done great things for His people.  Their mouths are filled with Ellilta praise.  The movement of their tongues which fills their mouth and manifests from a heart that is filled with joy. 

Joy that transcends circumstances.  

Joy that isn’t dependant upon receipt of goods.  

But Joy that comes with the knowing of Who is in control.  

They are believing for the restoration to occur, for the God of the Bible to do what He has done before.  I love to sit in the Wednesday healing services at Tsion Church because the building is filled with people hungry for God to move and answer their prayers.  They gather in droves and agree in harmonious unity to the preaching of Life that is typical in such meetings.  Here I have filled my “Amharic words” folder on my phone with phrases that have required repeating from the audience.  Phrases like:

I will not stop!

I will pass over!

I will speak!

I am not afraid!

Restore our fortunes, O LORD, like streams in the Negeb!

I hear the tear filled prayers here.  Prayers said face down in the rocks to a God who may take up the cause of the humble servant.  Simultaneously I hear the SHOUTS OF JOY when prayers are answered.  Shouts unrestrained, unashamed, unaware of people around or cultural norms, but FULLY aware of the God who answered their prayers.  HALLELUJAHs that startle the crowd as right in the pew, God answers a prayer.  People being healed, people having revelations of God’s goodness in their situation, people shouting out to a God who has delivered them of demonic forces.  People who are about to reap their harvest. 

Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!

He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.

As we head into the end of our third year here, I am thankful for the God who gives the desire to DREAM and for the dreams HE has even enabled US to dream again and see come to reality.  I thank HIM for the opportunity He has given us to be able to serve in such a special country that perhaps HE placed in our Hearts because of His heart for this country.  What a privilege it is to be an ambassador of that heart.  Thanks for all those who pray for us.  

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)