2/23 #2 What Do You Pray For?

 

My day started with the question, "What do you pray for?" as I sat to share a cup of tea at one of my favorite places.  It was asked by a young boy sitting across from me.  I gave him the short answer, "I pray for peace", and asked what he prays for.

"My future" he replied, waved his hand around at the women working so hard, "For all our futures.  We are our own country now". 

I asked the elderly man next to him, "What do you pray for?"  With a faraway, longing look in his eyes, he said "Our culture".  He didn't elaborate.  It is not hard to see the culture changing every day.

I asked the General Secretary what he prays for.  He laughed this big beautiful laugh of his and said, "You know, when all of this started, (meaning the fighting in Akobo), I prayed that you would pray with us, (not me personally, "us", the churches in the US), and you prayed.  The prayers are working.  Peace is coming." 

That just seemed like a good place to stop.

2/23 - Heaaven comes in a green and yellow package...

I HAD CHOCOLATE TODAY!! BEAUTIFUL, GLORIOUS CHOCOLATE! 

Was it the best chocolate I ever had?  Certainly not, but it is still heaven in a green and yellow package called “Safari”, but it lived up to the description on the wrapper…”wafer, caramel and cream center in a milky chocolate sensation”. 

Was it worth 4 ssp, about $1.50 USD?  Definitely not!! 

Is $1.50 USD cheap therapy? Definitely YES! 

And, in case I need further therapy, not likely at that price, but just in case, I now know the secret to keeping chocolate from melting in this heat.  Buy it early in the morning from the dukon (shop) that keeps it in the cooler, and is still cool from having electricity the night before.  Put it in your purse between two cool bottles of water, rush home and wrap them all in your towel. 

Sit on your bed and read your book, keeping an eye on the towel, like a kid, in case they sprout legs and walk out, until you can’t stand it anymore.  Take it out and eat a few bites.  Repeat process for the rest of the day until it is finished.  J

02.22 - Ash Wednesday - Taking Lessons from the Catholics

You know, I have never tried so hard to go to church in my life as I have had to try in Africa.  Not just South Sudan, but I remember going through the same thing in Ethiopia as well. 

I know the local church members don’t mean to, they just forget I don’t know what their traditions are.  If they don’t tell me, I can’t do what is expected of me.  I want to worship with them.  I want  to learn from them and their ways.  But I can’t do it if someone doesn’t tell me when, where and how.  Now, that that vent is out of the way, I will get on with the story.

Today is Ash Wednesday.  I have gone to church on Ash Wednesday for as long as I can remember.  The Easter season doesn’t begin for me without it.  It would be like not going to church on Easter Sunday.  They are the book ends for this most holy season.  So, today I tried to find out if and when the services at “my” church are.  I called the pastor, no answer.  I went to the church office thinking it might be posted, nope.  I asked the General Secretary, he didn’t know. 

So, I thought back to earlier in the day when I stopped for a visit with Sister Sara and to pay my rent.  We were exchanging our cultures and what we do to celebrate Lent.  I told her I was off to find out if we were having church.

She held out both hands, took mine in hers, and looked me straight in the eye and said, “If you don’t find it, please come”.  And, so when I didn’t find it I did go.  I was standing outside the door covering my head when she looked up and the sun lit her face.  She was glad to see me.  She had save a place just  for me and was dusting if off.  She spent most of the service, fanning me so I wouldn’t be so hot.  

I think perhaps we Presbyterians (and a few others) should take a lesson from the Catholics, they do it right! 

When is the last time we had a place next to us, just for a visitor?

The service proceeded as normal, in Arabic.  Sister Sara made sure that I knew what the scripture readings were so I could follow along in my Bible.  Then came the sermon.  I didn’t understand a word, but that was ok.  I was in the presence of God and that is all that matters to me.  Then I heard the words, “I have spoken in Arabic far too long. We have a guest so I will switch to English for a three minute summary”. 

WOW!  Being the only white face there, I will admit, it brought tears to my eyes to think that the Priest would stop and summarize his sermon just for me!  Talk about feeling welcome!!

When is the last time we translated a summary of our sermon for just one visitor?

Imposition of Ashes…I didn’t understand a word that was said, and it really didn’t matter.  By accepting the ashes tonight I was offering up my commitment during this Lenten season to continue the prayers I committed to on Sunday.  But now, they have a new focus, or perhaps a more direct focus.  The words of the sermon that were summarized invited us to

                Go back to ourselves, what is not right within us personally

                Go back to our houses, what needs to be set straight there

                Go back, repent and set it straight during this time of Lent so that we can go back to God, cleansed in the glory of Easter morning

                During this time of Lent, we are all invited to focus, embrace Christ and to repent

                We should all be like the blind beggar on the road, he needed to see, but he only asked for mercy.

                And, that is a good beginning, start by asking for mercy….

Communion…I was under the impression that we couldn’t take communion in the Catholic Church, so I asked.  I didn’t want to do something that they would consider sacrilegious. So I asked.  Sister Sara looked at me puzzled.  She asked, “Who is your Lord and Savior?  You believe in Jesus Christ don’t you?”  “Of course” I replied.  “Then take it”, she answered, “It is His table, not ours”.   So, when it was time, she led me, hand in hand to the priest, who served me the bread.  And all I could think walking back to my place is “I am not worthy!”

When is the last time we led someone by the hand to the Lord’s table and invited them to partake?

Yeah, I think perhaps we might take a lesson or two.

 

So, as it nears time for some of my churches to begin their 12:00 worship services, know that I will be praying with you. 

My prayer for today is a ten finger prayer, or two handed for those sticklers who say a thumb is a thumb and not a finger…

1.       Thank you for the blessings of this day.

2.       Thank you for all the ways you have blessed my life and the people, the supporters and the churches that have helped send me here

3.       I ask your blessings on  each and every person in this room, and all those on my lists

4.       Forgive all my sins, seen and unseen, known and unknown

5.       Cleanse me Father so I am worthy to come before you

6.       Help me to keep my focus on you and the plans you have for my life

7.       Help me to go back to myself and see the things that need cleaning up and fixing, the things that separate me from you

8.       Help me go back to my house and set things straight there and mend any broken fences

9.       Lord, I come before you in humble gratitude for the opportunity you have given me to serve in this time and this place.  I am just not sure I am worthy of such a gift.

10.   Lord, have mercy on all of us…

Amen

Now, for the funny story of the day…It wouldn’t be a day without at least one funny story….

I was sitting after taking communion, and I mean this in absolutely no disrespectful way what so ever, praying and trying to scrape the communion wafer off of the roof of my mouth.  It was stuck.  It wasn’t going anywhere.  It wasn’t dissolving and there was no way to discreetly try to take a drink of water. The thought flittered through my mind, “has anyone ever died because a wafer stuck to the top of their mouth and expanded and cut off their air flow?” At which point, I was sure that God probably wouldn’t approve of those thoughts and perhaps I should be a little more pious and pray.  So, as I bent over to pray, in the traditionally respectful way here, feet flat on the floor, knees together, elbows bent, hands clasped over your knees and head bent, almost touching hands and knees.

 “This is my body broken for you…” as the words to our communion service rumbled through my head,  a giggle almost popped right out of my mouth as I thought about the wafer still stuck in my mouth, and my shoulder popped and sent a blinding shot of pain down my arm, I prayed, “God, this really is my body broken for you…I broke it in the car, the lady was teaching me to worship “their” way and pulled my hands up over my head so I could praise you with them high in the air, and I slipped in the mud and popped it again trying to not make a complete fool of myself.  That is three, is it enough?  Naahh, but it is all I have, so Lord, I am giving my broken body to you.”

So, now it is off to finish arguing with a footnote in my Bible.  I am going to lose.  I know it, but that never stopped me before!!

Blessings everyone!

02.18 I Can't Wrap My Head Around It...

Saturday –

Great day!  Lunch with Mike, Gail, James, Jacob and Aliamma began with prayers of blessings for Jacob and Aliamma’s house on their return this week after being chased out by a bat problem.  Great food, great company and great conversation as I was introduced to a new restaurant in the area.  We finished the day by joining hands in a circle around my room as prayers of blessing were lifted up for my new home as well.

Then I came home and worked on security reports and humanitarian reports that I can’t even wrap my head around…

500,000 coming from the north by April 8

25,000 turned away at the border, the village couldn’t handle them, they had to keep traveling until they found another location

36,000 in a camp planned for 20,000.  The generator broke, they can’t pump water – it is 105 to 115 degrees here!

30,000 and having to truck in water

And the list goes on…

Are these inflated numbers, generated to pull at my heart strings and make me want to donate to some organization with the best “heart wrenching” photo?  They are UN reports, you decide…

We need prayers, lots of prayers…

Closed borders

Increasing fuel prices

Drastic price increases for food and other necessary supplies are coming

Food shortages are already showing up in the market here

Tensions are only going to get higher…

Oh, Lord, what do we do???

The only thing we can.  Come to you on bended knee and pray!

2/19 - OH NO! IT IS ALMOST LENT AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO GIVE UP!!

I was sitting outside under a star filled sky tonight, watching my “custard” cook over the charcoal fire.  I was thinking, this has been a really good day, not just a good day, a good week.  I never realized how much of an attitude change just unpacking my suitcase could make.

If I was Debbie, I would have told me to leave a long time ago! I am surprised that a few of my friends – the ones I can vent to – are even still speaking to me! Reality is, a friend told me last night,  “You sound like the old you”.  I am glad! Even I wasn’t liking the new me!!

Back to the subject…I was sitting here, enjoying the play of colors in the charcoal, watching the stars in the sky, and listening to assorted music coming from around me, rock, Christian, chanting from the Mosque, a few native drums in  the rare moment of silence, thinking “Life sure is good” when it hit me.  Ash Wednesday is this week!  Usually, by now, I know what I am going to give up.

I looked around my room at what I have…

Peanuts?  No, that is my source of protein,

Shirro?  Nope, lots of vitamins and minerals in that, it is a good meat substitute.

Tuna?  Nope, I have it, but I can’t open it anyway – I can’t find a can opener here!  Some sacrifice that would be!

Any food items are out, they are so limited any way – tomatoes, onions, potatoes, garlic, limes, an occasional cucumber – that is about it, besides lentils, rice and macaroni. I have to stay healthy, I don’t think God wants us to sacrifice our health…

I know it is not really a “Presbyterian thing” to give up something for Lent, but, you haven’t met my mother.  Every year for as long as I can remember, probably as many as I have been alive, she gives up her favorite thing – chocolate. 

So, with those thoughts in mind, I pulled out my handy dandy “Interpretation” cd and typed in “sacrifice” in the search box.  The first thing that popped up is

“By emphasizing the real humanity of Jesus, the Gethsemane narrative presents him as a model that ordinary Christians can follow. We can learn from him to stand the test by praying frequently and earnestly that our wills be aligned with our Father’s will. This is the practical point of the narrative. Its theological message is even more important. It suggests that Jesus’ most important sacrifice was not his blood but his obedience. The Epistle to the Hebrews, which draws on sacrificial language more extensively than any other New Testament writing as a way of talking about Jesus’ saving death, indicates that “blood” and “sacrifice” are but metaphors for the obedience that was Jesus’ real offering to God (see Heb. 10:5-10). The same theological point is made by Paul: “For as by one man’s disobedience many were made sinners, so by one man’s obedience many will be made righteous” (Rom. 5:19). For Christians, the Garden of Gethsemane is the reversal of the Garden of Eden.

Then on to…” The people were sprinkled with blood at the covenant sacrifice (Ex. 24:3-8). However, the sacrifice that cleanses the new people of God occurred on the cross. It ratifies their obedience to Jesus Christ, rather than to the law as in Exodus.

Next came a comment on Psalm 50, “That He may judge his people” “First, sacrifice is to be brought as an act of thankful praise; the praise may even serve as the sacrifice of thanksgiving, the Todah. Vows to God are to be fulfilled by thanksgiving, thanksgiving alone; there is to be no transference of property as payment

I stopped with “Portions of Joshua 24:1-28 (vv. 1-3a, 14-15) are suggested for use at or near the end of the church’s lectionary cycle. Thus the call to choose the Lord comes appropriately after the church celebrates Christ’s birth, contemplates his sacrifice on the cross, and claims again his resurrection. The call of Joshua to Israel to “choose this day whom you will serve” is also the call to the contemporary community of faith.”

What I learned in these readings is:

 I don’t have to give up anything to God except my thanksgivings…Psalm 50… “Vows to God are to be fulfilled by thanksgiving, thanksgiving alone;”

The Call of Joshua to Israel to “choose this day whom you will serve” is also my call to the community of faith.  I have chosen whom I will serve.

By emphasizing the real humanity of Jesus, the Gethsemane narrative presents him as a model that ordinary Christians can follow. We can learn from him to stand the test by praying frequently and earnestly that our wills be aligned with our Father’s will….. It suggests that Jesus’ most important sacrifice was not his blood but his obedience… indicates that “blood” and “sacrifice” are but metaphors for the obedience that was Jesus’ real offering to God (see Heb. 10:5-10).

And so, with these thoughts in mind, and knowing there is not a sacrifice, I can make that will ever be enough, this Lent, I commit to “give up” time.  Time to pray in new and deeper and more meaningful ways that

 my will be aligned with our Father’s will,

to remember the words to Jeremiah 29:11 and their application for my life, here and now, in this place  - not my plans, but God’s plans –

to renew my commitment each and every day to the call of Joshua to  choose whom I will serve,

and to pray with thanksgiving for the amazing opportunities that I have been given to serve God, here, in this time and this place, for the amazing community of faith he has blessed me with, 

Thanks be to God!  Amen!

2/16 Joy Comes in the Morning

2/16

 Joy Comes in the Morning…

I got up this morning, pulled up the lectionary on the PCUSA website and was greeted with the words to Psalm 30:5 “Joy comes in the morning…”

Yes, it does.  I love the early mornings in Malakal!  The city is just beginning to wake up, the donkeys are moving a little slow, kind of shuffling along as the sleepy boys driving them are trying to wake up as they start their days.  The shop keepers are opening and pulling their big bags of goods that were stored behind locked doors last night, out and beginning to display their large stacks of shoes, socks, shirts, etc on tarps that have been laid out on the ground.

As I start through the market, the smell of chaii and buna (tea and coffee) permeates the air with the sharp scents of cinnamon, cardamom and ginger mix with the scent of charcoal, hot grease and this amazing light doughey, fried bread is dusted with sugar.  Six to eight pieces, fresh from the fryer, dusted in sugar and wrapped in old newspaper is just the thing to bring “Joy comes  in the Morning.”

As I turn the corner, I am met by the bread sellers, “ish” as it is called here – warm, soft bread, I call it chapatti, and I don’t buy it in the morning!  The vegetable vendors are laying out their vegetables and many smile and greet me as I go by.  Some women are spreading their blankets and the smell of fresh basil, mint and other greens mixes into this wonderful aroma that floats above their heads. Others are headed out with trays of tea balancing over their heads on trays as they make their way through the throngs of people.  Young boys are setting up with their wheelbarrows full of rice, lentils, and other assorted goods.  Men, women, boys…Arabic, Muslim, Ethiopian, Orthodox, South Sudanese and those from the North, Christian, and probably some others, create a tapestry of humanity and a cross section of this new country learning to walk as the eek out a living.  Most are laughing and smiling and greeting each other as they start their new day….”Joy Comes in the Morning”

A little farther down the road, the brightly colored umbrellas, dance in the early morning light, like flowers in a field, where it appears a market area might once have been.  This is the land of phone cards and chargers, and a rainbow of cases to protect your phone and young men competing with each other to sell their cards and laughing a visiting throughout the day.  “Joy comes in the morning”

I keep on walking past them, my usual guy that I buy from when I need more minutes, laughs and waves.  He is probably remembering the last time I bought minutes and tried to add them by myself!  Four people later, the finally figured out what I had done wrong and had me back in  business again.    I was so busy greeting them, that I almost bumped into the Jinka truck.  Now, I don’t know what they are called here, but I just learned that is the name in Afghanistan.  They used to have bells on them, I think some still do, and jingle became jinka. 

I LOVE the jinka trucks!  They are just fun!  First of all they are big and they are tall and they go bouncing down the road, full of goods, full of people, usually piled on top or standing along the edges,  They are usually decorated in bright colors and have some really unique outstanding features, and all that I have seen, have the words “Austin”  in big letters across the front.

The one this morning,  sported a big beautiful ostrich feather duster from it’s grill, and beautifully painted flowers in bright colors across the front and running down the sides.  It was the interior that was the amazing work of ---- art, that is it, art!  Hot pink, cotton fabric stretced across the back, where the seat should have been.  Bright yellow, I think, maybe pink, pompoms hung from the headliner, those gold beads that people use on their Christmas trees were hung diagonally from front to back criss-crossing in the center to form a ball of some kind of sparking “thing” hanging like a chandelier in the middle.  A big cross and other assorted Mardi Gras beads were swinging from the rearview mirror and the dashboard was covered in another brightly colored cloth.  The best part, I have to think how to describe this, so it makes sense to you….

Here in South Sudan, I have discovered that there is an over-abundance of scrap metal, left from war years I am sure.  Some very resourceful people are making very good livings turning it into household goods with a welding torch and high powered heaters.  One of the things they are making, besides bedframes, are chair frames.  Once the chair frame is complete, they have to have a back and a seat.  Remember the old macramé lawn chairs that were popular 15 or 20 years ago?  That is how they are made, only with brightly colored nylon rope woven together.

Ok, back to the Jinka truck, and the best part…sitting in the place of the driver’s seat, and I believe there was another one on the passenger side, was a lime green and yellow, metal framed, “macramé chair!   Now, how can “Joy not come in the morning” when you drive a truck like that !??  It made me laugh just seeing it.  And there wasn’t just one jinka truck this morning, there were three lined up on the road, all decorated in bright colors and everyone different.  Yup, “Joy comes in the morning”…

Today is Friday. I have now been in my room for five days.  There is a peace here I can’t quite describe, perhaps I am finding new ways to feed my soul.  I may still not have the river, but there is a sense of community in this area that I am liking very much. 

I have had several meetings this week at the UN offices and so I go dressed “American”, someone never fails to question where my luwalla is.  Young men, old men, women, teens – I am always surprised by the ones who notice and question.  When I go out later, I make sure I go back to where I saw them last so they can see I still wear it.  If it is that important to them, it is the least I can do.

I had to laugh at some of the men in the market yesterday. They are getting to know me well.  I walked by,  waved, gave my greetings and  one held up the bread and said “Ish? No ish today?”  The one behind him, held up limes, “You want limes?”  “No, not today.”  I made it down to the smaller market behind the mosque and up from a squatting position jumps the smiling face of “onion man”.  I don’t know his name, I know he is Lou Nuer from Akobo and ever since he found out I was supposed to be there has treated me like a queen.  We chat, we visit and I always leave with way more onions than I need. And he points to the young boy next to him and says “He thanks you for his schooling”.  God is good!

2/16 Joy Comes in the Morning

2/16

 Joy Comes in the Morning…

I got up this morning, pulled up the lectionary on the PCUSA website and was greeted with the words to Psalm 30:5 “Joy comes in the morning…”

Yes, it does.  I love the early mornings in Malakal!  The city is just beginning to wake up, the donkeys are moving a little slow, kind of shuffling along as the sleepy boys driving them are trying to wake up as they start their days.  The shop keepers are opening and pulling their big bags of goods that were stored behind locked doors last night, out and beginning to display their large stacks of shoes, socks, shirts, etc on tarps that have been laid out on the ground.

As I start through the market, the smell of chaii and buna (tea and coffee) permeates the air with the sharp scents of cinnamon, cardamom and ginger mix with the scent of charcoal, hot grease and this amazing light doughey, fried bread is dusted with sugar.  Six to eight pieces, fresh from the fryer, dusted in sugar and wrapped in old newspaper is just the thing to bring “Joy comes  in the Morning.”

As I turn the corner, I am met by the bread sellers, “ish” as it is called here – warm, soft bread, I call it chapatti, and I don’t buy it in the morning!  The vegetable vendors are laying out their vegetables and many smile and greet me as I go by.  Some women are spreading their blankets and the smell of fresh basil, mint and other greens mixes into this wonderful aroma that floats above their heads. Others are headed out with trays of tea balancing over their heads on trays as they make their way through the throngs of people.  Young boys are setting up with their wheelbarrows full of rice, lentils, and other assorted goods.  Men, women, boys…Arabic, Muslim, Ethiopian, Orthodox, South Sudanese and those from the North, Christian, and probably some others, create a tapestry of humanity and a cross section of this new country learning to walk as the eek out a living.  Most are laughing and smiling and greeting each other as they start their new day….”Joy Comes in the Morning”

A little farther down the road, the brightly colored umbrellas, dance in the early morning light, like flowers in a field, where it appears a market area might once have been.  This is the land of phone cards and chargers, and a rainbow of cases to protect your phone and young men competing with each other to sell their cards and laughing a visiting throughout the day.  “Joy comes in the morning”

I keep on walking past them, my usual guy that I buy from when I need more minutes, laughs and waves.  He is probably remembering the last time I bought minutes and tried to add them by myself!  Four people later, the finally figured out what I had done wrong and had me back in  business again.    I was so busy greeting them, that I almost bumped into the Jinka truck.  Now, I don’t know what they are called here, but I just learned that is the name in Afghanistan.  They used to have bells on them, I think some still do, and jingle became jinka. 

I LOVE the jinka trucks!  They are just fun!  First of all they are big and they are tall and they go bouncing down the road, full of goods, full of people, usually piled on top or standing along the edges,  They are usually decorated in bright colors and have some really unique outstanding features, and all that I have seen, have the words “Austin”  in big letters across the front.

The one this morning,  sported a big beautiful ostrich feather duster from it’s grill, and beautifully painted flowers in bright colors across the front and running down the sides.  It was the interior that was the amazing work of ---- art, that is it, art!  Hot pink, cotton fabric stretced across the back, where the seat should have been.  Bright yellow, I think, maybe pink, pompoms hung from the headliner, those gold beads that people use on their Christmas trees were hung diagonally from front to back criss-crossing in the center to form a ball of some kind of sparking “thing” hanging like a chandelier in the middle.  A big cross and other assorted Mardi Gras beads were swinging from the rearview mirror and the dashboard was covered in another brightly colored cloth.  The best part, I have to think how to describe this, so it makes sense to you….

Here in South Sudan, I have discovered that there is an over-abundance of scrap metal, left from war years I am sure.  Some very resourceful people are making very good livings turning it into household goods with a welding torch and high powered heaters.  One of the things they are making, besides bedframes, are chair frames.  Once the chair frame is complete, they have to have a back and a seat.  Remember the old macramé lawn chairs that were popular 15 or 20 years ago?  That is how they are made, only with brightly colored nylon rope woven together.

Ok, back to the Jinka truck, and the best part…sitting in the place of the driver’s seat, and I believe there was another one on the passenger side, was a lime green and yellow, metal framed, “macramé chair!   Now, how can “Joy not come in the morning” when you drive a truck like that !??  It made me laugh just seeing it.  And there wasn’t just one jinka truck this morning, there were three lined up on the road, all decorated in bright colors and everyone different.  Yup, “Joy comes in the morning”…

Today is Friday. I have now been in my room for five days.  There is a peace here I can’t quite describe, perhaps I am finding new ways to feed my soul.  I may still not have the river, but there is a sense of community in this area that I am liking very much. 

I have had several meetings this week at the UN offices and so I go dressed “American”, someone never fails to question where my luwalla is.  Young men, old men, women, teens – I am always surprised by the ones who notice and question.  When I go out later, I make sure I go back to where I saw them last so they can see I still wear it.  If it is that important to them, it is the least I can do.

I had to laugh at some of the men in the market yesterday. They are getting to know me well.  I walked by,  waved, gave my greetings and  one held up the bread and said “Ish? No ish today?”  The one behind him, held up limes, “You want limes?”  “No, not today.”  I made it down to the smaller market behind the mosque and up from a squatting position jumps the smiling face of “onion man”.  I don’t know his name, I know he is Lou Nuer from Akobo and ever since he found out I was supposed to be there has treated me like a queen.  We chat, we visit and I always leave with way more onions than I need. And he points to the young boy next to him and says “He thanks you for his schooling”.  God is good!

Completely Out of Control!!

I am stealing words from my friend Fritz here, but they really apply to my life the last six weeks or so. They are from his blog, Flowing Streams...

There’s a difference between being called to serve the Lord and knowing what God’s will for the future might be." He goes on to say, "When we're called to serve Jesus Christ, we loose control of the future."

I have lost all control of my future!! I thought I knew what my future was in South Sudan when I answered the call to serve here. I thought I would go and live in a tiny village on the edge of a river, in my tent. I had visions of floating around town like a busy little butterfly, making friends, building relationships, getting settled, learning my way around, learning the language and starting to teach.

Market area, Malakal, South Sudan

God laughed, stirred the pot and six weeks later I am in dusty, dirty, Malakal, a "city", with all the things I hate about cities, and a few extras thrown in to see how far God can stretch me. I hate cities! That is why I chose to live 10 miles between small towns! I'd go, I'd visit the city, and I would run right back to the country and the lake I loved so much as fast as I could. That is why Akobo is the perfect place for me.

Only I can't do that here. There is no country to run to. There is no river to go and sit by, at least without raising a lot of suspicion from the local and not so local authorities. I haven't even been able to take pictures, my other outlet for soul building and sanity saving. I got in trouble for that and I am very grateful that I didn't get my camera confiscated or worse yet, beaten up. Things like that happen here.

And so, my friend Fritz, you hit the nail on the head that I needed when you wrote those words, "When we're called to serve Jesus Christ, we loose control of the future." I have lost complete and total control of my future. I have no control over being in Malakal. I have no control over where I live. About the only control I have is over which of the three outfits I brought with me I am I going to wear today and what I can make to eat out of the food supplies available here. I am completely and totally at the mercy of God, our Father. 

That is exactly as it should be.

It is when I get out of the way, that I find God has room to do his will in my life; to mold me and shape me and to stretch me farther that I ever thought possible. In the words I used at the Women's Leadership workshop last week, "Remember, these stones we offer up to God as our commitment to work for peace, when broken down into fine powder,when mixed with the dust and dirt under our feet, created from our labors, and mixed with the water we have here that represents our baptism and our commitment to God; all together they create clay. We are the clay and God is the potter. When we are broken he can mold us and shape us and give us new strength and form."

That, I believe, is what can happen when we loose control of the future. I know that is what has happened since I have been here in Malakal. I know there were lessons in patience and understanding, love and compassion I needed to learn
I am stretching, Lord!

 I am also very grateful for loosing control of my future, for in loosing control, we are filled with many blessings. My blessing basket is so full it is overflowing with love and relationships I have made since coming here. If I hadn't been sent to Malakal, I would have missed out on many things.

I would have missed out on learning that 2 meters of cloth - a tablecloth - can build a community, just by wearing it down the street. Because it is the traditional dress here, I raised quite a ruckus by wearing it. I was greeted with smiles and laughter, joy and happiness. I never had my hand shaken so many times or so many people stop me on the street. I didn't think that it was that big of a deal. Until I didn't wear it. I became invisible and the few people who noticed I was there wanted to know where it was. You could see their extreme disappointment.

I grew in the learning of that lesson.  I learned how important respecting cultural dress is in building community.

I have learned that no matter how much I miss my life in Akobo and how bad I want to return there, God has work for me to do here. I have learned that when I open my arms and embrace the challenges I grow not only in what I am capable of doing, but in my confidence to stretch a little more next time. I wasn't sure I could teach to women, in seven different languages. Now I KNOW I can.

Road from Malakal to Renk


 

I have learned that when we loose control, we have to trust God to take us safely to our destination, no matter how uncertain the road...



















That sometimes, in the loosing control we have to be still and listen...













And sometimes we get to rejoice and celebrate...














Thank you Fritz for the reminder, that when we choose to follow Jesus, we loose control!



Blessings and peace to everyone!

Sharon