Brave

We’ve all heard the stories.

The girl from Columbine who just before she was shot proudly stated that she was a Christian, knowing that it would lead to her death.

Or the men and women led by Martin Luther King who fought for Civil Rights, sitting on buses, protesting in the streets, staring into white faces intent on segregation yet still believing in an end to inequality.

And the suffragettes, those crazy women they teach about in English History, who wanted women to get a chance to vote, resulting in their imprisonment (and as I remember from my classes, getting dragged and run over by horses!).

Or the man who risks his life to save the [young boy/puppy/neighbour’s cat] stuck up a tree or floating down a river.

The people who don’t just sit and watch the six o’clock news, but desire to change the news.

To be the news.

To be brave.

I always look at these people and think, “How on earth do they do that?” But the truth I have discovered is that most of us would probably do the same thing if we were put in that situation.

I think of some of my American surrogate parents, a district attorney’s assistant and Dallas SWAT officer [for my 22^nd birthday, they dressed up as Batman & Batgirl – with their crime fighting skills in real life, the suits were very apt!]. They have these massively hectic lives often risking their lives to serve the community, serve at church in various ministries, and have gorgeous twins who they cart around to ballet, baseball and birthday parties.

I think they’re brave.

They would say “We just get on with it; this is our life”.

I think about the people on Pais who I have seen pioneer new nations. Starting out with tiny teams, little support, low finances but massive dreams of what a massive God can do.

I think they’re brave.

They would say “We are just doing what we think is the right thing”.

As I served with a local agency today, providing free bags of food and hygiene products to those in need, I had to get the people who attended to fill out forms detailing their financial status. Numerous times I saw families of 3, 4,5 surviving on well below the poverty line. One lady had no income and three children.

I think they’re brave.

They would say “We just do what we need to do”.

The truth is within all of us, there are two things:

The desire to be brave

and

The ability to be brave.

We have found that out this week.

On Tuesday within the space of 10 minutes we found out that my great-uncle in Jamaica had died [following a stroke that we believed on Sunday he was totally recovering from] and that Steve’s dad [Brian of navy-velvet-jacket-at-the-wedding fame] has a brain tumour.

Life is so fragile.

Life is so precious.

Life that can be so easily created in a scandalous bump in the dark, is so swiftly challenged, tested, illness-stricken, stressed…

…and so easily taken away.

But we are brave.

After the Ghana trip, we had (yet another) talk about children and said, “How would we do a trip like that with a child?”

The answer: “We would just cope.”

When faced with the challenges of life that could cause unraveling, we just have to do it.

So Brian waits at home, preparing for surgery on Monday October 18^th that will take out as much of the tumour as possible, and to find out whether it is cancerous or not.

Ironically the surgery is on the same day two of our dear friends find out whether the squiggling fetus inside of the wife has girly bits or boy bits.

Life is so sweet, so fragile.

So we,

ourselves and our families,

are called

To be strong.

To have a resilient hope.

To trust and hope in our Father God,

the creator of the world,

who we believe is our,

and everyone’s

Lord and Saviour.

Called to be

at this time:

Brave.

Why?

“We have to do what you we have to do.”

(Brian indicating where the tumour is)

Big Difference

Father God has been speaking to me yesterday and today about the fraility of life...and then I read this blog entry from a dear friend Hannah who is serving in Zambia, working in schools and I HAD to put it up!! This is a word for all of us, to appreciate the life we have, strive for greater and bigger things and seek to bring change to those around us.

For those of you on Pais, use this to trigger conversations with the young people you work with

For those who are young people, compare your lives to the zambia students 

For all of us, think about whether the life we are living is really making a difference...

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I’m constantly struck by the differences between Schools Work in the UK and Schools Work in Zambia. The basic methods are the same: assemblies, clubs and discipleship groups, but the atmosphere is entirely different; not just continents apart but worlds apart!

I’m certainly missing the efficiency of the schools in the UK but I’m finding that the actual work, in some ways, is much easier here. This is most noticeable in the discipleship groups. While sometimes in the UK it seemed like a struggle to get people to join, in Zambia the students (aged from12-16) take the responsibility of running the groups much more seriously. They form committees; they meet after school in their own time; they have small praise teams and they expect you to come and speak to them for up to an hour. And they’re more enthusiastic than most churches I’ve seen in the UK! So why is this? Is it because UK teenagers are ashamed? Or do they just not care?

I think the difference is that in Zambia the frailty of life is a reality and therefore Jesus, and the hope that he brings, becomes much more of a reality too. In the UK teenagers can rightly assume that they will have bright futures, where nearly anything is possible, and then die when they are old and their lives are complete. Jesus is for later. Here though, futures aren’t always promised to be bright. Life will be hard, and often short.

I was thinking today, as I drove to work, how many funerals I have attended in my 27 years. The total was four, maybe five. There were my two grandparents, both over 80; a couple of old people from church; a friend’s father. Five. And I have never been to a funeral of anybody under 70 years old. Maybe I’m just lucky but I suspect that is the case for many people my age. Here though, death is everywhere. I drive past two graveyards on the way to work: every other day, sometimes every day, I pass a funeral party or a freshly dug grave. The notice boards at school have weekly obituaries. Parents regularly have to bury their own children.

So maybe that’s the difference. Maybe in the west life is just an assumption and not a gift. Maybe we could learn to treasure each moment and make the most of each opportunity that we are fortunate enough to have.

And let’s not stop praying that someday the futures of young Zambians could look as bright as God intended them to be.

Cookies

Waiting is boring.

Preparing is dull.

Quite often I fancy homemade cookies, but going through the actual process of getting out all the ingredients, measuring them, re-measuring them because I get confused in my conversion from English grams to American cups, getting out the (beloved) chrome Kitchen Aid mixer, following the recipe, dividing up the dough…blah blah blah, I’m bored, and now very much hungry, just thinking about doing all that effort and all that work.

All that preparation.

We just want the cookies. The main event. The end product.

I had a good crying session Sunday night with my beautiful & faithful friend Kelli McFarlane.

I was pouring out my heart over current situations and feeling like I’m in this random time of waiting for who knows what, and not understanding so many things. I know that this is the right path, yet I wonder and worry about so much. Am I really being effective?! What difference am I making?! And then Kelli did what she does better than most people I know.

She asked me an awkward question:

“Jesus spent only 3 years in recorded Bible work. What was he doing for the rest of the time? Was he wasting it?”

Silly Kelli, of course Jesus didn’t waste his time – He’s the son of God!! He would have got a right good spanking from His Dad for wasting time!!

But it got me thinking: What on earth was he doing for the first 30 years?!

So Monday morning I studied the structure of Jesus’ life.

1 day old: Born to a virgin, in a manger; random shepherds came to worship.

8 days old: Circumsised. Guess that was a rough day.

41 days old: Brought to the temple in Jerusalem to be presented; a sacrifice of two turtle doves/pigeons, made

12 years old: Feast of Passover, Jesus lingered behind in Jerusalem, spending three days in the temple, sitting in the midst of teachers, both listening to them and asking questions. All who heard Him were astonished at His understanding and answers.

Aged 30: Jesus began His ministry, after being baptized by John. The rest of those details are heavily recorded.

Aged 30-33: His “ministry” time. These details are heavily recorded.

What was he doing between 41 days old and 12 years old?!

(besides getting potty trained?)

What was he doing between 12 years old and 30 years old?!

(besides that awkward pubescent smelly phase?)

Looking at the few verses that commentate on this they say:

“And the Child grew and became strong in Spirit, filled with wisdom […] And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and men”

That’s a long time spent on growing strong, and increasing in wisdom, but obviously with the amazing things that Jesus did aged 30-33, that time was important. It had benefit. It had worth.

It was essential.

When Steve did his half-marathon, he trained for at least an hour, 3-4 times a week, for several months. His race lasted just over 2 hours.

At the end of the race he got a medal and the sense of pride of achievement, but the lesson wasn’t in the event.

It was in the hours of preparation. That’s where he learnt discipline, hard work, focus, sacrifice, commitment.

The race day was simply the painful culmination of it all.

University isn’t just about a degree, a piece of paper with your name and a grade.

Though I highly advocate further education and the value of a degree, university is a place where you learn social skills, independence, time management, discover who you really are, work out what you want from life, what you have to offer the world and learn from different teachers and different people from different backgrounds.

Father God puts us through times of preparation for a reason.

As I was worshipping God by singing songs tonight, He dropped in my head all my single girl friends.

He said: ‘I am preparing them for marriage’

There are things you are learning now, which will make you a better wife at the start of your marriage then people who get married 5, 7, 10 years before you. You will be better prepared at running a household, managing finances, looking after yourself and others because of your time spent in advance.

Maybe you’re unemployed, or stuck in an in-between temp job trying to work out what the next step is.

Maybe you feel like the country and role you have right now is the one you are supposed to be in, but you know there is something more coming up.

Maybe you have just come out of a long-term relationship, and are wondering why you had to endure that heartache.

In this in-between phase, there are things to be learnt, skills to be honed, adventures to have, wisdom and strength to gain that will make our main event, our race day, our marriage all the better because we were prepared.

It’s hard, because all we want is the cookie. 

But the cookie tastes so much sweeter when you know the effort that you put in to get there.

The ones brought straight from the store never taste as good.

Wandering

I feel like I’m wandering.

Just existing with no real purpose.

And it feels bad.

Feels like I’m wasting the life that Father God gave me.

Feel like I’m wasting the talent

The gifts, the skills…

But the truth is

Last year

I was

Wandering

Aimlessly

I had a job title

A role

A description

An email signature

A to do list that never seemed to end

Calls to make

Meetings to have

But mentally

I don’t know if I was there

Mentally

I was wandering

Wondering if this was all there was to life

Examining whether I was passionate about this

Knowing that this was not what 100% looked like

Knowing this wasn’t what I wanted my life to be

And I was wandering onto a path I didn’t want to be on

I wonder if it’s better

This way

It might not look like it

Look like the better way

But it feels more honest.

Field Trip

Our last full day in Accra was truly a beautiful day.

Our hectic schedule included visiting an orphanage, a school, a market and a beach. Driven by Royalhouse Chapel's drive of 17 years, Harrison, we spent what felt like most of our day listening to the honking horns of Ghanaian traffic. But the long drives from place to place gave me lots of time to think and reflect. 

Our first stop was to see Miss Beckylynn runs Pathfinders, a home for children who have been orphaned as a result of either (or both) of their parents dying from HIV/AIDS. The children are aware that their parents have died, but not the reason why. This is for two reasons:

1. So they are not stigmatized by their school mates or those in the community around the orphanage

2. They do not stigmatize themselves (thus leading to self-fulfilling prophecy – where you believe bad myths about your race/gender/situation, and through your own fault, live up to the low expectations set by these folklores)

Twenty children, ranging in ages 2 to 17, gathered anxiously on wooden benches, excited that the number of guests exceeded them.

For once they wouldn’t have to share, but have one-on-one time with an adult.

Steve and I quickly became engaged in conversation with Selestina, a 15 year old with aspirations of being a civil engineer. Her father, only the day before, had dropped her off to be placed in the capable hands of Pathfinders, seemingly in the aftermath of her mother to that life-taking illness. For an unknown/unexplained reason, her siblings remained with her dad. Her manner was warm and educated. She was planning on setting up a Christian Club at her school as she wanted to see people genuinely living out their faith and encouraging one another.

Mavis, aged 17, was single, abandoned and pregnant. She only spoke Tre (one of the many regional languages of Ghana) which was a sign of her lack of education (Ghanaian students in good schools, are taught in English) so translation was difficult. As Selestina told me she was 7 months pregnant, all my questions seemed pointless and silly. I felt like I had no words of encouragement to this young troubled woman, who was painfully shy and embarrassed to be asked questions, embarrassed to be the center of attention when she had previously been ostracized by her previous community. She felt it was shame that had resulted in her arrival at Pathfinders.

Elijah, no more than 2, strode confidently over to Andrew (Pais:Ghana apprentice from Northern Ireland), reaching his hands upwards, as a signal to be lifted into Andrew’s arms. Andrew’s surprised but very paternal obedience to the wordless command brought a smile to the toddler’s face. 

We ran relay races played games, and sang songs. One girl's request of both ‘The First Noel’ and ‘Hark the Herald Angels sing’ was met with stifled laughter, but as we sang and saw a smile rise, we realized that somehow these festive songs brought a joy to her spirit.

When so much had been taken away from her, who could we not happily meet her simple request.

Before we left, we handed out school supplies to each student. They lined up excitedly, as each apprentice passed over a coloured notebook and a decorated bright blue paper sack containing coloured crayons, pencils, erasers and a glue stick. Esther (Pais:Ghana apprentice from Germany) was firm in her ask for a yellow notebook stating “It’s that girl’s favourite colour.”

We somberly got back onto the bus; the scorching sun smudging make up, and sweat falling down our foreheads as we grabbed and shared the few water bottles we had between us. Carmen (Pais:Ghana apprentice from Mexico; was on Steve’s team Jan-June 2009) and I looked around the neighbourhood as we continued our journey. How different would our lives have been had this been our home? How much does the environment a person is brought up in shape the adult they become?

How easy it was to bring a smile to their faces with a fun action song, and a nicely decorated gift bag.

How easy it was to meet their maybe strange, but very obtainable, desires.

How easy it is to take for granted all that you have, then visit a place where others are in need, or see a sad story on the news, or read a harrowing tale of poverty in the paper…

…and have your heart moved, your gut wrenched, your tears fall…

…and tomorrow be no more changed than you were before you had even seen or heard.

My friend Anna, a self-confessed hater of all Physical Education in school, and all organized sport, ran in the Great North Run on Sunday.

13 miles, on a cold and rainy northern England morning, in a time of 3 hours 30 minutes.

She describes her idea of exercise as dancing at clubs on Saturday nights and walking to the fridge for a bar of chocolate. She lost toenails, bled through her shoes and has two almighty blisters but was led to put her “squidgy around the edges” body through it for a reason:

“I am running this to raise lots of money to help people with visual impairments like my Pa. Losing his sight affected his life in more ways than you could imagine and I hope that the money I raise will help support those who have lost their sight and also help in the research and treatment of diseases that cause blindness.“

Father God, would you make me a person, who doesn't forget, cannot forget, and is changed beyond words...

...and into action.

Tambourine

I finally got my chance to be part of the worship team on Saturday during the Pais commissioning service. And it wasn’t with a tambourine [someone else had that :O)].

I was on stage.

Holding a microphone.

That was working.

During worship.

My role?

There were no plug-ins for the acoustic guitars, so I had to hold the microphone by one of them so the audience could hear the music.

The audience couldn’t see me because I was hidden behind the Pais:Ghana banner that was on stage.

The past three days have been a flurry of manic activity and really understanding TIA – This is Africa. It is fast-paced yet slow; it is post-modern yet pre-modern; it is expensive yet cheap.

On Friday, it was our last day of “classroom style” Foundational Training [from Monday we will be doing a week of practical preaching and ministry writing work]. Saturday was our commissioning service and Steve and I were invited to speak at one of the Pais partnering churches youth leaders training sessions. Today, we arrived at church at 7am and left at 2.30pm.

What I am LOVING about Ghana is the worship.

The loud, exciting, passionate, joyful expression of people praising God.

Today at church there was a dance troupe of tambourine-clad older ladies rocking it out in a choreographed routine.

Some of the apprentices joined some Ghanaians in what looked like a Christian version of the Macarena.

The “Children’s Day” presentation involved three boys and a girl break dancing and rapping, as well as a massive group dance to Mary Mary.

And I am LOVING prayer times.

Just how passionate and excited people are about something that so many see as a painful obligation. How rich and deep their belief in Father God answering them is.

The Reverend at Royalhouse Chapel today spoke about how the apprentices from difference countries would go back changed after a year being with them.

I feel changed after a week….only three days left :O(

Treat

This was our treat last night.

A bottle of orange Fanta,

a packet of shortbread biscuits,

and the Kingdom of Heaven movie on the projector screen in the upstairs lounge.

As we passed the crate of drink and box of cookies round the circled group of apprentices, everyone whooped and hollered with joy and clapped.

A week ago I would have scoffed at this as a treat. If Steve came home from the grocery store with this, I would have sent him back for a large bag sour patch kids, a crate of vitamin water, and a big bag of the special kettlecorn popcorn I like that comes in a red bag.

So much of my perspective is changing. So many of the things I felt were essential are being diminished.

While most of us watched the first half of the movies in the upper living room, downstairs we heard the all to familiar intro to the Kingdom Principles series [familiar because we have heard it so many times in the last week/years but also because it is taken from the Kingdom of Heaven soundtrack!].

A small group of apprentices and support staff who had missed parts of the series for various reasons were gathered around a laptop watching ‘Use it or Lose it’. As we came down the stairs at the movies they were still involved in a deep discussion of the material that began after the 50-minute teaching had finished.  

So I guess treats are dependent upon two things:

one, what you are used to in everyday non-treat life

and

two, what you are hungry for.