Tomorrow is the first day of school! Well, at least here in Swaziland it is the first day of school. Oh, I have so many fond memories surrounding the first day of school. I remember a blue and red plaid school bag sitting on the sofa in my parent's living room filled with new #2 pencils, Bic pens , colored pencils, loose leaf paper and a 'Trapper Keeper' folder. It was there the next morning when I came down the stairs in a freshly pressed and laundered outfit to sit down to a special back-to-school breakfast. I picked it up before heading out the front door to board a big yellow bus which brought me to school. Walking through the sparkling front doors of the school I was met with the smell of freshly waxed floors, polished wood,  finger paints and new chalk.

My memories just don't match up to what I have experienced here in Swaziland prior to the beginning of a new school year. For so many families there is the question of if they will even have the money to send their kids to school. Even if there is money, the quality schools (especially here in the rural area where we live) have many, many more applicants than places available.

This morning I got up early to pick up two young people from our community. They both want to complete their education and have their sights set on the 'best' school in this area. We drive off the main tar road, over dips and divots in the red rocky earth. We park under a tree and walk toward the school building. Grass is growing out of control.  (On the first day of school, students will spend their time cutting down the grass and getting the grounds in order.) Trash bins are overflowing with garbage. (Yeah...students will take care of burning the trash and cleaning up the inside of the building too!)  I even see a pair of girls underwear partially buried in the mud. (I have absolutely nothing to say about that...)  A couple of skinny dogs are scavenging about the grounds. THIS is the school building on the day before school starts for the year?

We enter the stifling hot building only to be met with a grim faced woman. Flies buzz over a sticky spot on the scuffed wood counter. We state our business; looking for spots for the two young people I have transported. One, the 16 year old female, will have to come back tomorrow. She attended this school last year but failed her final exams so she will probably have to be beaten. After her punishment, the head teacher will determine if she is eligible to enroll in her grade. The other, a 21 year old male, continues to try and pass English in 'Form 3' (comparable to Grade 10). He has passed every other subject, but struggles with English. If he doesn't pass English, he can't move on towards the next level. Of course, there is more to his story. He has lost both of his parents. He lives with his grandmother and several younger siblings, nieces and nephews. He works part time to help bring money to the household. He is very active in his local church and youth group. He tries to study at night by candlelight. He is like a son to us...and Jacob's best friend. I (somewhat vainly) believed that by accompanying him to the school office this morning I might be able to have some influence in the process. Well, you can't influence a person making the decisions if that person just doesn't show up!

So, we will go back tomorrow...

"Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are anger and courage; anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain the way they are." ~ St. Augustine

Our family was visiting one of the widows in our community this past week. We go monthly to bring food and supplies for the homestead, and spend some time praying. As we sat in front of her home she shared her heart with us. How thankful she is that the Lord arranged events in such a way that a family from America came to Swaziland and eventually came upon this woman and the grandchildren she cares for. How the Holy Spirit pricked our hearts and compelled us to provide food and basic medical care for her and even had the distinct privilege of coordinating efforts to provide a new house for them to live in to replace a mud and stick hut that was literally falling down around them. She gave praise to God that this new house now stands firm on her homestead and served to protect her during a recent torrential downpour of rains and wind. She mentions how her neighbors often ask her: "How is it that the white people come to your house and always bring you gifts?" to which she humbly and correctly responds: "I prayed to God and He is answering my prayers." In fact, while we are sitting in the late afternoon African sun one of her neighbors wanders over with a huge grin on her distinctly lined face, hands placed together up in front of her chest as she is approaching us saying: "Siyabonga Jesus, Siyabonga Babe, Siyabonga!" (Thank you Jesus, Thank you Father, Thank you) She continues on in SiSwati and our ministry partner translates her message. "She is so thankful that you come and care for her neighbor, she is so grateful for that!" She is also a widow, left behind to care for several young grandchildren and great grand children. These women look out for each other. They share in one another's joys and sufferings. They encourage each other.  Beautiful. The Church at it's most basic and organic level.

Before we leave we ask if we can pray for anything specific. Her face becomes very serious and she begins to speak and request prayer. "A demon torments me in the night..."

She proceeds to tell us that for the past several nights she has been gripped with fear and terror in the middle of the night. She has not been able to sleep. She believes an evil spirit is coming to her after dark to attack her. She knows prayer is the only way to stop it.

My heart breaks for this precious, vulnerable woman who has endured so much loss and hardship in her life. She has buried children, nursed HIV infected grandchildren, gone to bed hungry and listened to the cries of her granddaughter's as they try to ignore the empty gnawing hunger in their bellies, walked over rocky and uneven terrain to find a place in the bush to relieve herself...Through it all, she has never lost her faith. She continues to cry out to Jehovah God to sustain her. As a reward for that faithfulness He has in fact provided for her in amazing and unbelievable ways!

I have pondered this often in the days since we've visited with her and each time my anger grows a bit more. Seriously, pathetic enemy of our souls, the best you can do is harass an old lady in her bed after dark? Really? Each time it is brought to mind, I am sure to pray for this woman; asking God to bring her HIS peace and serenity. When I've woken up in the night, this woman heavy on my heart, I pray. I know that HE is greater than the one that is in the world. It just is another reminder that we are not only battling against the physical realm, even though that is so often what we are faced with on a day to day basis. Not enough food, not enough water, inadequate medical care, broken families, no money for school fees, houses literally falling down around grandmas and their kids...the list goes on and on. And over the past year we have been amazed and humbled to watch and be a small part of seeing God address and provide for each of these physical areas! With seven intense words, this Gogo serves to remind me that the real battle is in the spiritual realm.

"A demon torments me in the night..."

 Ephesians 6:12 says this: "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." We do not have to fear this fact but we do have to understand it. It is very easy to get caught up in the physical needs of those around us because it is something we can wrap our minds around put our hands to. Often, we can do something to meet at least part of that physical need. And I'm not suggesting that we stop doing that. It is when we grow complacent in our efforts and satisfied with the fact that we have done something because what I am learning more and more is that even our best efforts are nothing apart from the touch of the Holy Spirit. We can do nothing apart from God's power; at least nothing that is of any true importance. I must daily, sometimes several times daily, lift my hands and ask God to fill them with what is eternally significant. Then and only then will I have something to deliver.  In fact, it has been the times when I have nothing left to give and the Lord pours out His mercy in full that I have experienced peace in knowing that together with Him we are doing something. I have to do my part, but I must guard from believing my part is enough or even the most important thing. Of course my family will continue to do our best to connect the needs of the people we serve to the generous outpouring of provision that God allows to flow through us and others. However, at the end of the day, the most important and valuable thing I can give is time on my knees praying protection and peace over them; claiming the promises from Scripture that nothing, no thing will ever separate them from the love of God. ...neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, not any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation...(Romans 8:38)

'GO'...

That was one of Jesus' last words on earth. In Matthew 28:19-20 He says: "Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."

For a while now we have felt fairly comfortable in the fact that we went!

We sold our house and cars and lots of the stuff you put into them...and we went!

So what!!??

For a long time we believed that was the hard part...the leaving...the breaking away from comfort and all things familiar. But truly, the real work starts after you've been there a while. The unfamiliar starts to become familiar. The new becomes mundane. The exciting eclipses into the routine.

Jesus never promised the work of building His Kingdom would be familiar or new or exciting. He never said you would be a hero in doing His work. He never said everyone would love you and cheer you on as you did the work.  He certainly never said it would be easy...

No, the instructions were pretty clear: 'Go, and make disciples...'

It's that 'making disciples' piece that gets tricky. I can make bread. I can make a bed. I can not make a disciple...not on my own.

Making a disciple is messy...it is painful...it makes me look stupid...it makes me doubt my own ability...sometimes, it even makes me question my faith...

Sometimes making a disciple seems...almost...counterintuitive...it goes against what makes sense, sometimes.

Making a disciple has eternal echoes...it really matters...unlike bread...or bed.

Making a disciple requires the supernatural touch of Jesus Christ...without that...we are spinning our wheels, wasting time, chasing after...

Fill in your own blank, there. Chasing after what? Money...recognition...power...popularity...comfort...what??

Making a disciple always has to come first in the pursuit of the Kingdom of God. Without disciples you have...nothing.

Last night after dinner we read a very good story in our devotional book, A Farmer's Year by Angus Buchan. Some of you may recognize his name from the book and movie called "Faith Like Potatoes" which is the story of Angus Buchan (a South African farmer) and his journey in following the Lord's call on his life.

"It's about two angels who spent the night in the home of a wealthy family. The family were very unfriendly and ushered them into the cold basement. As they made their bed on the hard floor, the older angel saw a hole in the wall and repaired it. When the younger angel questioned him, he responded: 'Things aren't always what they seem.'

The next night they stopped at the house of a very poor but hospitable farmer. After sharing what little food they had the couple insisted the angels sleep in their bed. The next morning, the farmer and his wife were in tears. Their only cow, whose milk had been their sole source of income, lay dead in the field. The younger angel was infuriated. 'How could you have let this happen?' he cried out. 'The first family had everything and yet you helped them...This family has nothing but you let their cow die!'

'Things aren't always what they seem,' the older angel said. 'When we stayed in the basement of the mansion, I noticed there was gold stored in the hole of the wall. Since the owner was so obsessed with greed and unwilling to share his good fortune, I sealed the wall so he wouldn't find it. Last night the angel of death came for the farmer's wife. I told him to take the cow instead. Things aren't always what they seem.'

This story really struck me. Lately I have been on my knees questioning the Lord quite a bit. Some of the events and circumstances in my life and in the lives of many of my loved ones and acquaintances have thrown me for a loop. My faith has been stretched and tested in ways I couldn't have imagined.

But that thought: "Things aren't always what they seem" brings a bit of peace and comfort. How much of what is happening around us are we oblivious to? How often do we miss the miracle because we are too focused on the pain? Is there treasure waiting for me that I just can't find because of some sin or blind spot in my life?  Have I been crying over the dead cow when I should have been rejoicing over how God spared my own life? What am I missing by spending so much time and energy feeling sorry for myself and questioning God?

God is always up to something. He is always on the move. He doesn't waste a single thing and He can redeem anything...no matter how hopeless or painful the situation. Even when we don't realize it, dare I even say especially when we don't realize it, God is always for us. He is working it all out...in His own time and in His own way. After all, He sacrificed His own beloved Son to show the world how much He loves us. That is crazy! Crazy, unimaginable love! You can't wrap your mind around that depth of love!

 Things aren't always what they seem.

Being a missionary is kind of like childbirth...it's awesome, but nobody tells you how much it hurts!!

Is it worth it? Of course!

Do you think so at the time??

Well, the jury is still out on that one. Our 'baby' is still not talking or walking or doing any cool tricks! We are still at the early stages of seeing fruit. We have faith that the Lord is in this work and that there WILL be fruit. There are even days where we see clear evidence that seeds are germinating... Spring IS coming!! But right now...it's kind of a struggle. Even though the air is hot and humid, winter seems to abound. We are in that transition time where you know you are onto something good but haven't quite got there yet. Too late to turn around and throw in the towel, but too early to start sending up fireworks and having a grand celebration!

Sometimes we experience things and have feelings that seem too raw...too caustic to share. This is right on the edge of one of those things. Hopefully there is grace enough on your end to glean from it what is valuable and throw away the rest!

In all of this, we KNOW God is good...He is still on the throne and He is faithful!

It is our own weakness, our own pathetic human nature that is causing us to stumble.

 There have been enough obstacles to make us question if we are capable of finishing what God has called us to accomplish.

The easy answer to that?

NO!! A resounding NO!! WE are NOT capable...

But He is...

He is...

...He WILL!

Nobody told us this...but that doesn't matter!

Actually, it does matter...it is important that nobody told us this...

Because if we HAD known...then what?

Would we give it all?

Will you?

Two days ago I walked outside onto our patio and bent down to put on my shoes. I was disgusted to find that our new dog  had chewed on one of the straps of my sandals. I could still wear them, but it is only a matter of time before the material will give way and my sandals will be useless. I was angry! I was annoyed! After all, these were my 'good' shoes...the ones that I can't really replace here in Swaziland. Yet...I can still wear them AND if the strap does let go I do have other shoes to put on my feet.

Then, today at one of our care points, I had a little girl sitting on my lap. She was singing and chatting with me. As I looked down, I noticed her shoes.

 

Kind of put things into perspective! Do you see how the backs of her shoes are literally missing!!?? Yet...she finds it in her soul to sing. (and dance!)

As we enter into a season of Christmas lists and  a time where we tend to focus on things we think we need or want to make us happy...look at this little girl's shoes and ask yourself... what does it take to really make you happy? What makes you sing? What makes you dance? Is the joy of the Lord your strength?