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

What Am I Really Missing Out On?

After reading one of Jentezen Franklin’s book a few years ago, I decided to do a 21 day Daniel Fast. It was the first time for me and as I feared not eating (in fact I started off with three days of full fasting), I ate up large the night before I started. Up until that point in my life, eating had become a coping mechanism for me. I love food and I used it many times in my life to calm emotions, feed my starving soul, take out my anger and just indulge in some goodness for my pallet. So the thought of fasting scared me, to say the least.

But once I started fasting, and really, it’s still eating but just cutting out some of the favourites and remaining in a spirit of prayer.. I realized that what I was believing God for was more valuable than the food that I was sacrificing. So I wrote this in my journal..

“I’m not missing out on anything, unless I’m missing out on You.” You Meaning God

I was making chocolate cupcakes at a camp for kids when I realized that even for this seemingly big sacrifice of not eating this food I had spent hours cooking, NOTHING compares to what I would miss if I missed out on God and the answer He would give as a result of my fasting.

This can also translate to the life that we live right now. My kids were asked recently where they would rather live – Ethiopia or New Zealand? Not an unusual question for them and they were being asked by a New Zealander in Ethiopia so they felt free to answer as this person was well aware of both country’s contexts. Freely my daughters answered that they would rather live in Ethiopia because of the lifestyle but it took my youngest son a couple of days to answer and he answered when we were alone. He said, “If my cousins were all here in Ethiopia with us, I would rather live in Ethiopia…If all our family were here. “  I completely understand and too often yearn to have cuddles with my nephews and nieces and late night catch ups with my sisters and Mum. I feel like I’m missing out when birthdays are celebrated and special holidays call for family gatherings and we are not there. But at the end of the day, I know that I’m not missing out on anything unless I am missing out on God and His purpose and plan for my life.

Yesterday we went to a church service where the preacher was speaking from where Paul says “To live is Christ…” He made a point about the things that we as humans can replace the word “Christ” for. The first example he used was “money”. To live is money. This is the mantra of the lives of so many people (Christian and non-Christian) around the world. We believe that money makes the world go round and perhaps makes our life complete but if that’s what it’s all about then life is seemingly meaningless as money is only temporary. It’s just a tool to fulfill life’s real purpose.

The second example he used was one that he said was huge for American’s especially. He said “To live is Family… and went on to explain how many people put family and children before the worship of God. This he said can be interpreted as family becoming a god. To us of the familial-centered cultures, this is a challenge. What if taking our children out of our comfort zone was God’s will and we chose comfort for them over obedience to Him. Does that make them our god? What if a father insisted a child stay and chase his career options in one country that would fulfil his every material desire but he chose to go instead to a far away country where his skills were needed more and God has called him. Does his disobedience to his father mean he is sinning or does his obedience to where he is called by God supersede his father’s command?

I’ve met so many young people who have come to Ethiopia or who have heard us speak about our calling here and God’s provision in making it happen and have said that they feel called also. But there are people and circumstances in their lives that have stopped them from doing it. I am not saying that I am any better because we have done this thing…I speak because I know people still don’t understand our calling and the sacrifices we made to make this move, but God does. God knows the call, He knows the fear that follows and the hesitation to obey. But on the other side of that He also knows the blessing that awaits. He knows the joy that you will experience by being in His will and purpose. He feels the pain of the departure but He also knows the pleasure of the arrival.

Moses knew the truth of this sacrifice. He had the Promised Land in front of Him, but he was not willing to claim it unless God was with him. In essence he was saying “I am not missing out on anything (even the Promised Land) unless I’m missing out on you.

 Then he said to Him “If your presence does not go with us, do not bring us up from here.”

Exodus 33:15

Over the five years that we have been on this journey coming to and living in Ethiopia, our sacrifices have been acknowledged on various occasions. My response is always that, the greater sacrifice would be to NOT come to Ethiopia. I would rather miss out on all the things in New Zealand (family, the lifestyle, the beaches, the conveniences) than to miss out on what God has for us here. There is no better place to be than in the centre of His will.

So I’m writing this blog as a challenge and as an encouragement. What do you fear missing out on when you or if you were to step into God’s will? Then also to encourage those who feel like we are making a sacrifice. When we get to heaven (and we’re not getting there by our good works or by our sacrifices we made here, but by the ultimate sacrifice Christ made on the cross and our belief in Him) we will have everything we missed out here on earth. Our time here on earth is short compared to how we will spend eternity. We only live once and we will never know the fullness of joy that comes with being in Christ’s will apart from our time on earth. So let’s make it count.

One of the beautiful lakes in Debre Zeit

The truth of the matter is that stepping out in obedience to God's calling here has opened up the door for so many blessings, in experiences, in ministry, in relationships, in travel, in meeting some amazing people. God is never in debt to us. Our sacrifices can never outweigh His. 

Every Child Needs Some Love and Care

While establishing our vision statement to explain why we do what we do, this was what seemed to encapsulate it all:

  Because we believe that EVERY child should have access to the BASIC necessities of life; LOVE, CARE, FOOD, CLEAN WATER and FAMILY.

Recently we joined a movement that is giving us the opportunity to live that out and I write this blog to explain why WE decided to get involved.  That movement is called Love and Care for His Little Ones and it is "a team of volunteers with a passionate heart to serve orphans and vulnerable kids." LOVE and CARE...the first two components of our vision statement. It seems silly NOT to get involved right??!

"We were all created to be recipients of Love" 

Sam Chapman - Indigenous NZ development expert

As I stared across a sea of faces ready to begin a day of festivities, I saw children; big and small, with hearts that were hungry to receive that LOVE that they were created for.  If there is ever an instance of entitlement that a child deserves, it is this one- to receive love.  And actually if there is ever a gift we are expected to give, it is ALSO this one - 

Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to LOVE one another, for whoever LOVES others has fulfilled the law. 
Romans 13:8

For with IT, partnered with a caring environment a child can develop and thrive and BECOME all that God has created them to BE. Love is SO important, for without it our hearts are left void of their most necessary component for growth. 

In seeing their faces I knew that their hunger to BE loved existed because of their lack of receiving it.  These children at some stage in their lives had been orphaned or abandoned. This is what qualified them to be here on this cold Saturday morning on the outskirts of Addis Ababa.  This event had been planned, prayed for, and implemented because there were a group of people who wanted to GIVE them the basic necessities of life- LOVE, CARE, FOOD, CLEAN WATER and an EXTENDED FAMILY. This is why WE were here. Because we joined a movement that exists to meet this need for Love and Care for His Little Ones.  

Rahel Asheber and Dawit Getachew (pictured above) are the ones who are leading this movement with an amazing team of young volunteers- students, graduates, young professionals and youth workers; people gifted to serve in so many ways to make this movement the success it has been for the last four years.  

We heard about this program because Dawit is an award winning Gospel Artist whose music has broken tradition in Ethiopia and connects young and old with the heart of God.  After finding out about his amazing music, we found out about his heart for orphans.  He in fact was present at a conference I attended in 2012 and blogged about.  It was around this same time, they started to gather young people to attend orphanages on a weekly basis to help support the children educationally, socially and emotionally. What they started is so PROFOUND.

Dawit shared a story over the weekend, as they were motivating the newly formed Hawassa team, to go and connect with the kids in the orphanages to build relationships with them.  The story was about a visit they made to an orphanage in Addis Ababa where they were going around and asking the kids what they wanted to be when they grew up.  Typical replies were vocalized- "I want to be a doctor" says one child, "I want to be a teacher" says another and more shared their desires for careers and jobs.  Then they came to one child whose response was "I want to be a ferenji." So they asked him "Why?" He said because life seems so much easier for ferenjis (foreigners).  It's easy he said for them to find work, to get money, to study and have a good life. Sadly he wasn't offered role models that could show him otherwise until Love and Care showed up. 

After discovering that most visitors to the majority of orphan centers in Addis Ababa are short term foreigners who come for a small trip and leave again, they knew that something had to change. What young Ethiopian volunteers have to offer is so much more valuable- they speak the same language, they are consistently in the area, they are young people who can inspire as these children relate to them, and they genuinely have a heart to love and care for children who don't have the parental love they need. 

Not only do they have teams all around Addis Ababa going into centers every Saturday morning, they also hold these events three times a year on special holidays.  At each event there are fun activities for the kids to participate in that they would have NEVER otherwise had the opportunity to be a part of! They have an awesome time of worship and story telling and then they feed them and give them a gift to take home.  This year that gift was a towel for each child as some children within the orphanages didn't have any at all. 

What Love and Care for His Little Ones are doing is motivated by their desire to do FOR these children what God has done for them- He has called them out of the darkness and into His wonderful light (1 Pet 2:9), He has shown them Love and Grace, been a Father and a Provider, so in turn they are doing the same for Him... 

Donate towards this New Years Carnival by clicking Go Fund Me Page 

850 children from 22 Centers, 

over 2 cities and 2 weeks 

made up what was the 

LOVE and CARE Easter Carnivals!
You can LIKE their Facebook Page
And YOU can ALSO join the movement- Stay in touch to see when you can donate to the festivities or sign up to volunteer if you live in Addis!


Also if you want to check out Dawit's music, you can listen to one our faves by buying his instrumental Jazz style album on itunes here, or you can check out his YouTube Channel!

Be blessed!

When Empathizing turns into Empowering

"It wont stop, it wont stop" His German accent proclaimed as the beggars kept coming as a response to the birr they saw us handing out. So we closed the door and he drove off. He was right though and I know it too well. Once you start to give away free money (and by free I mean unearned, undeserved) the cycle never stops. Our general rule is actually NOT to give to street beggars unless there is a specific Supernatural leading to do so. We don't want to create dependancy or create an expectation or entitlement every time they see us or people who look like us. He doesn't want to either.

He, as referred to above,is Tobi and while he helps Ethiopians set up small businesses to create sustainable income for themselves in rural and urban areas around the country, his wife and he also realize the importance of creating employment opportunities for vulnerable women.

Women such as the growing single mother population, young women trying to put themselves through College/University, women coming off the street and women just like the ones who were on the street with their children begging that night.

These women caught the heart of this couple and especially 28 year old, Samira- the more eloquent and passionate of the two.  She recently graduated with a Bachelors Degree in Gender and Development studies which was a result of her desire to advocate for Women's Rights in Ethiopia. She has been a spokesperson on Female Genital Mutilation and focused her research on this subject. She tells me of regions where they have an incidence rate of 90-100% of girls being circumcised. She's a photographer, model and fashion expert but her main passion is to help young women reach their greatest potential.

Samira has just given birth four months ago to their first baby girl.  She carried this baby while planning the business, decorating the cafe and buying the necessary equipment with the small capital funding they invested.  After returning from birthing the baby in Germany she's hit the ground running opening, as a solution to empowering women, Temsalet Kitchen.

Temsalet means "Exemplary" and its name encompasses the vision she has for this extraordinary restaurant.
Rather than establishing an NGO in Addis to support women, they're partnering with local NGOs and helping them fill a gap that so often exposes itself; the unemployment gap.

First of all they are hiring experienced women who can be role models and teachers to younger or less experienced women who just need someone to believe in them. Here these at risk women are nurtured in a safe environment and are gaining work experience and life skills as well as having the flexibility they need to balance work and family. Its not an easy task arranging all of this but Samira is carried along by her vision and by the many family and friends she has supporting her.

Recently I was able to join in this amazing project by assisting in the development and execution of the European menu. Alongside their amazing Ethiopian cultural menu, Temsalet is filling another gap in Addis Ababa- delicious and healthy food. The atmosphere Samira and her designer friends have created within the restaurant incites any passer by to come in. Situated in a happening part of Addis (Ethiopia's capital and the political capital of Africa) right near the African Union headquarters and many Embassy bases, Temsalet is destined for great things! Already it is showing signs of success as more and more hungry people gather to share in the vision and in turn make a way for women to be empowered and mentored to fulfill their fullest potential. Like Tobi says, the customers not only come to feed their stomachs but to feed their conscience.

Temsalet Kitchen:  

Where Quality, Relationship and Empowerment fuse for one purpose: 

To be Exemplary

If you're in Addis, come and visit! Like us on Facebook

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!

A Mother's Loss: My Somber Christmas Blog

Last night, I was disturbed by a dream that left me searching for my son.  I had sent him off somewhere not knowing exactly where he was going and two days later I realized he wasn’t coming back so I searched for him relentlessly, afraid that I may have lost him forever.  I asked family and friends if they had seen him, which left them accusatory to say the least at my lack of responsibility in protecting this ten year old boy’s safety. The ten year old boy I love the most in the entire world.

 I questioned my own sanity in letting him go by himself and not having any way of contacting him. I felt like he had gone into an abyss that we could never get him back from. My dream turned into a nightmare.  Thankfully though, I woke to find that this was not at all true and that my son was indeed still laying upstairs safely in his bed.  Relief.

 Not so for another mother we encountered this week though;  Not so for yet another one we have met in these last five months and again not even for another mother we are reflecting on this season.  Let me tell you about these three mothers:

1.       We have just moved into a new place in the west south corner of Addis Ababa. The suburb is developing fast and many foreigners as well as Ethiopian people are moving into this area, showing promise for business owners and landlords who have built homes in the area anticipating that this would happen.  The area also leads onto the new highway that runs south to places like Debre Zeit (our old home city), Nazaret and Awash National Park.

There is a bustling supermarket and business building that is frequented by many middle class and well-to-do customers. Knowing this, many beggars stand stationed outside with their children, trying to make the most of the opportunities that will avail them.

Unfortunately though, as we found out, these children are being put at risk as they follow people across the busy street chasing that coin, that birr, that piece of bread…which is so much less than they ACTUALLY need.  My heart broke as we encountered the enormity again of the need here and our insufficiency to meet the needs.

Thursday came and Asaua and I went to do our shopping with our friend in her car to this particular supermarket which seems to be the closest thing to our western supermarket experiences (bar the security checks at the door and the potential power outages).  I had forgotten the wallet on the first trip so a couple of hours later, Asaua had to make a second trip to pay for and collect the food.  As he was getting ready to pay and leave, the driver came in to warn him that there had been an accident outside.  One of the beggar boys had been hit by a passing vehicle and he lay dead in his mother’s grieving arms.  People surrounded them to pass blame on this mother for allowing her son to be out begging with her while she wailed; Asaua catching a glimpse of his limping legs still lying on the road that claimed his life. Cars came to a halt to bypass the boy who needed bypassing just a few minutes earlier.  A life not yet lived, was taken away and a mother lost her son in one Thursday afternoon excursion. The loss of that mother rang wild in my soul as Asaua reported what had happened on his return. Oh, Lord Jesus, you know the pain that grieved her heart.

2.        Five months ago as we prepared to leave Ethiopia, a lovely lady had been put in contact with me as a potential partner with the work that we are involved with.  As it turned out, she ended up being the answer to our prayer for accommodation in Sydney as we prepared to stay near my sister’s house in the “Hills District” of this huge city.  She lived only six kilometres away from where my mum and sister’s family were living.

As we entered into her home, we heard this mother’s loss of her dear son.  Nine years earlier, her son had left his home country with his wife to be missionaries in Ethiopia. After he had arrived, our host (his mother) had visited him and they had a good time together exploring the country he had then made his home.   After her return to Australia, a few months down the track, she was alerted to the fact that her son was in a fatal fall during a rainy night excursion out onto the roof of a building that needed some maintenance.

As we heard her story, we sensed her pain and empathized with the loss this family had experienced as the result of his obedience to God’s call on his life to go to Ethiopia. It doesn’t make sense yet we have heard it time and time again. Mother’s losing children on the mission field. What pain they must endure to not have to just say goodbye once, but to say goodbye till eternity they meet.  A mother’s loss of a son surfacing in an ocean of pain.  Grief unbearable without the strength of One who carries heavy burdens.

3.       The third woman that comes to mind is the one to whom we see around us in Nativity scenes and on Christmas Cards this season.  Two thousand plus years ago, she was chosen to give birth to the Messiah. “The One who was and is and is to come.” He was to be conceived of the Holy Spirit in HER womb and to be raised in her home under the love of her arms only to then be given over to a horrendous death in which she would be witness to.  He was to be the propitiation for our sins.  Yet she took on the challenge and trusted God with her son.  She surrendered her body, her life, her grief to the One who had seen the beginning from the end.  

I wonder if she sensed the loss from the beginning, forming attachments with her beloved son – a son who did not sin! A son who did no wrong and could not have caused her harm if he had tried; her love for him would have been untainted by hurt or pain.  Yet she awaited the time when what the world would do to him would bring the greatest hurt and pain a mother could endure.  Yet she loved and protected him, chasing him down also when he seemed to go missing yet was about his Father’s business. You can read about that story in Luke 2:41-52

Though this wasn't the greatest loss this mother was to experience, it was the taste of what was yet to come. In the event of her greatest loss, Jesus comforted her and gave her a "replacement" son, John. She then got to know the joy of His Resurrection before anyone else did as she met him outside his tomb.  This is the hope that we have. The story does not finish at her loss, but rather in her regaining her Son in His Resurrection moment. This too we can partake in as we receive Eternal Life thought the very act Mary lived to grieve. Do you know that Eternal Hope? It is yours for the taking.  

In this season where the focus is on a Son, know that it encompasses the awaiting loss, an expected grief and that in that grief, He is not unaware of yours.  

He truly came to bring...

JOY TO THE WORLD!

The Scarlet Thread...

"Behold, when we come into the land, you shalt bind this line of scarlet thread in the window which you let us down by: and you shalt bring your father, and your mother, and your  brethren, and all your father's household home to you."  Joshua  2:18 

The scarlet thread was to be a sign for the rescue of Rahab and her family in the days that would bring destruction to her city.  She, by faith, had hidden these spies in her house so that they could spy out the land for Joshua and their people.  It was the beginning of the overtake of Jericho by the people to which God had promised the land.  Yet the method they used  to enter the city was to go into the house of a harlot.  A prostituted woman.  A prostituted woman who lived in a brothel on the wall of Jericho.

SHE "straddled the fence"- literally.  The Bible said she had her brothel on the top of the walls of Jericho.  She saw the desert and the Jordan River and she saw the land of Jericho that in her heart, she knew was one day going to belong to the people who worshiped this One True God.  The God of Israel. 

This week we learnt about the different stages of women in prostitution breaking away from their lifestyle.  There are four stages and they are really not representative of their physical stand point- whether or not they had left the street, but where they were psychologically with the whole situation.  One of them was the "turning point" stage.  Rahab, was literally straddling the fence of this stage and the previous stage.  She had seen the advantages to starting a new life yet was still tied to the lifestyle she currently owned.

Yet this “prostitute” had heard of this great God and the things He had done for His people.  This is the reason for her co-operation with these men.  She vowed not to tell of their visit or spread a word about their business.  She was fully willing to risk her life for the life of these men because she knew what they knew.  

Joshua 2:10-11  "For we have heard how the LORD dried up the water of the Red sea for you, when ye came out of Egypt… And as soon as we had heard these things, our HEARTS DID MELT, neither did there remain any more courage in any man, because of you: for the LORD your God, he is God in heaven above, and in earth beneath."

I love this story for a few reasons.  It shows us the tenacity of these men to go into a brothel.  Not something many men of God would do or even women for that fact.  It may bring the “appearance of evil” and therefore many stay away.  BUT GOD used this medium for the rescue not only of this woman but for His people from the desert. 

It also shows the bravery and intelligence of Rahab.  She didn’t fear upon the arrival of these two men and she knew how to make the best of the given situation.  She knew how to navigate her way around their hearts.  She also wasn't afraid to open a window to her heart.

She believed without fear.  She heard and then, she believed.  And then she acted on that belief.  

She went to the 'turning point' stage.  She was thrown a lifeline in return for her bravery and faith.  The lifeline was her rescue not only from the destruction her city was about to face but it was from the lifestyle she had led up to that point.  

Rahab went on to live with the Israelites, the book of Joshua tells us.  But other parts of the Bible (such as Matthew 1) tell us that she went on to marry.  She married a man called Salmon and they raised a beautiful baby boy who ended up becoming a kinsmen redeemer over some land.  One day Rahab's son (otherwise known as Boaz) met a young lady gathering the leftovers in his field.  He had heard good things about this lady and showed her favor.  This young lady was widowed and away from her homeland so her mother in law suggested she go and seek a relationship with this kind gentleman.  They ended up marrying and having a son called Obed.  He also married and had a son named Jesse.  Jesse went on and had eight sons- one whom he called David.  David grew to become King and so the story goes on.  

God totally changed the destiny of this woman.  She sits in the lineage of not only the King of Israel but the King of the Jews.  The Son of David.  The Great Messiah, who by His blood would rescue souls.  By His Scarlet thread that ran from His Veins to rescue us from our destruction.

We are rescued to be rescuers.  

This Scarlet thread is being thrown out today for some ladies who find themselves in brothels with the view of what God is able to do with their lives.  They are straddling the fence but they are willing to risk their lives for the life of others- often times their own children.  But they need a way out.

I think of the ladies I met in Nazaret in 2009 and how they offered rescue to me.  On hearing their stories and hearing how God had rescued them, my life was rescued.  In restoration phase myself, I found myself repenting of my selfishness and pride that had built up over years of self-righteousness.  They rescued me from myself.  From my own self destruction so how else could I repay them but to provide their rescue in return.

So a couple of weeks we had a staff retreat out in Koka to evaluate and plan for the upcoming ladies who will enter our house.  We talked about Night Visits and the team decided our goal was to let every prostituted woman in Debre Zeit know that there is hope for her through our program.  The idea was raised to order some plastic wrist bands that displayed the words that hold our vision : Renewing Hope.  But written in Amharic so that every woman would remember that there is hope for her.  Especially when she feels hopeless.  This is her scarlet thread. 

It's not scarlet but it's orange which is the Ellilta Women at Risk logo color.   This is a draft of what we want to produce!  

You too have an opportunity to throw out a scarlet thread today.  Help support the distribution of some of these wristbands for us.  We not only want to order some for Debre Zeit but for every city our organization exists in- including for now Addis Ababa and Nazaret.  For every one we sell for $2, we can give away 11 to women who need to know there is rescue for them.  If we have 80 orders, we can distribute 1000.  

If you would like to buy one, contact us by email and we will send one out to you.  Postage and packaging not included.  

Contact michelle.tiatia@gmail.com

Be blessed!

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.

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)

The girls

I think about how humble these girls are and how hard it must have been for them to leave the street.  In doing so they acknowledge their inability to change by themselves.  They acknowledge their need for help.  They walk out in the face of the their peers who also had the same opportunity to leave but chose against it.  Admitting in the midst of all of their community that they are helpless against the evil that so easily besets them.  Humility.  That’s what they displayed.  Yet some would call it weakness.

As they entered the house they again faced their weakness.  Their inability to write or read.  Their lack of any education which sets them up for dependency at it’s fullest. 

But God “gives grace to the humble and resists the proud.”

When you call on me, you will find me when  you seek me with your whole heart.

For the last week I have seen them change.  Just in ten days.  From shying away and struggling against the desire to go BACK to now being content with where they are and excited about staying; about making this their home and about the future that awaits them back outside the walls around them.

And I remember how I am no different than them.  I too have sold myself short.  Not for money but for acceptance, for love, for companionship.

“Working with these girls will reflect things back to you about yourself so you have to be prepared for that”.  Wise words from Women at Risk counsellor, Wondesson.  That, without a doubt, is true.  Even from the first encounter I had with them in Nazaret, this truth reigned in my heart.  I really am no better than them.  I felt their shame, I know their regret.

We were given questions to talk through this first couple of weeks, questions to really get to know each 

other.  I learn how to say that- Iney kowukachuwegn… If you really knew me, you would know that my favourite colour is…etc.  But as the week progressed, the questions got deeper. 

My biggest dream is, my closest person is, my relationship with my family is, my most funniest moment was…

My greatest regret is..

Eek. 

I don’t even want to share mine yet they are being challenged to share theirs. 

I ask.  This one is hard isn’t it?

Right now I am planning a trip to the States with the Women at Risk staff for the ICAP (International Christian alliance on Prostitution)  Conference.  Preceding this, Dan Allaman, author of The Wounded Heart and member of ICAP is holding a workshop called “Your story becomes my story”.  It will help us who work with these women who have experienced great trauma to first deal with our own.

This past week we were sent our story writing assignment to do before we enter the preconference.  I cringe at the thought of bringing up the past.  A past that as I grew older I became to realize that it wasn’t all that bad.  But as my mum reminded me, in the eyes of a child, it was bad. 

I am sure, as are the facilitators, that this exercise will allow some past shames to resurface, some deeply hidden wounds will sting again and my fear of sharing them openly will be challenged. 

Yet these girls have stepped up to this challenge that soon I will face.  They will find healing in the midst of their trauma as they do so because they have found humility.  And they have hit rock bottom so they can only look up.

We on the other hand want to look like we have it all together, that we are completely restored yet our inner child needs tending to, our emotional outbursts reflect our wounded soul and our pride has orchestrated this facade that covers all our pain to all those who see only on the outside.

“But God looks on the heart.”

And He cares about the heart because out of IT flow the issues of life. 

Matthew 11:29

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. -Jesus

I love how when we humble ourselves, WE are the winners!! WE get grace.  WE get rest for our souls.  WE are finally able to overcome the stumbling blocks that pride puts up to stunt our growth, stunt our freedom.  Humility results in Rest for your souls.  

I am thankful for all the girls are teaching me and the humbling journey we are on together.

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.