Learning to Forgive...

     I am going to be real honest here, folks…I stink at forgiveness.

     I know what you are probably thinking.  ‘But you are a Christian.  Christ forgave you, so you are called to forgive others.’

     Yes, I know what the scripture says.  “Even while you were still a sinner, Christ died for you.”  I realize that God has sacrificed far more than I can ever imagine in order that I can experience His forgiveness. There are scriptures—many, many scriptures—that illustrate the remarkable character of God as He extends His forgiveness to His people.  There is no doubt in my mind that God poured out His grace and mercy upon me when I (undeservingly) received this gift. 

     Still, this whole forgiveness thing isn’t easy.  Just yesterday I was talking with my local pastor about this very topic and the maturity required to accomplish genuine forgiveness.  He explained to me that the church where we serve is home to many young people, most of whom struggle to forgive the people in their lives for the pain they have (intentionally and unintentionally) caused.  For years, they have been disappointed and hurt by the very people that are supposed to love them…and letting those people ‘off the hook’ just doesn’t seem possible.

     But it isn’t only the young people who struggle with this concept.  It is a challenge for the older people too; for both men and women; spiritually mature and those who are still growing.

Through recent conversations with fellow missionaries—grown adults with mature faiths—the struggle to forgive is real.  It may sound ironic that someone doing the Lord’s work struggles with stuff like this, but here’s the thing…They pour their heart out each and every day to serve and meet the needs around them. They give and give and give of their time and energy, trusting that the work they are doing is making a lasting impact on the souls around them.  And despite their best intentions and well-meaning hearts, they face harsh persecution and experience immense pain for their work.

    But such pain doesn’t happen only here in Africa.  Christians around the world suffer pain at the hands of others.  It is likely that you, too, have experienced some level of suffering from a fellow ‘Christian’ who, knowingly or unknowingly, did you wrong. 

So, what are we to do? 

     

     Well, God has been teaching me a thing or two about this issue over the past couple of months…

     First, we need to realize that we aren’t facing these trials alone.  Throughout scripture, we see several stories of people following the will of God and being ‘punished’ for it:

Everyone knows the story of Job—a righteous man who faced unimaginable physical and emotional torment.  His wife left him and his ‘friends’ ridiculed him for his faith. 

Moses followed God’s commands and led the people out of Egypt. How did they repay him?  By blaming him for their starvation and accusing him of impure motives.

Jeremiah warned people that Jerusalem would soon be destroyed and as a result, he was slandered, arrested, and called a traitor.

Then, of course, there is Jesus—the holy Son of God, blameless and without sin…nailed to a cross.

     In each of these stories, men were doing the will of God.  Unfortunately, the world was not able to appreciate their obedience.  And if it can happen to Jesus, surely it can happen to us.  So when the world fails to recognize your heart to serve and follow God, remember that you are suffering in good company.

     (I realize that was not much of a consolation…)

     Next, we should examine and consider changing our perspectives. Try to imagine what life is like from the accuser’s point-of-view. Is it possible that they are battling with something that no one else knows?  Was their behavior a consequence of their ignorance?  

Perhaps they misunderstood your intentions and reacted on instinct— you know, fight or flight? To you, their actions were grossly unacceptable, but for them, it may be all they know to do. Maybe their words/actions were a result of temptation or a selfish desire to obtain something they lacked…and you just happened to get in the way. 

     Perhaps it had NOTHING to with them at all…

     Wait—how can their inappropriate behavior have nothing to do with them?...

Because, as much as we hate to admit it, we are in the middle of a spiritual battle.  We have an enemy whose only goal is to steal, kill, and destroy. And as a child of God, we have a large target on our backs.  One of the greatest tools God gave us is the Body of Christ—unity among members to accomplish the Great Commission. If Satan can wedge his way into the minds of people and create disharmony among the church, it hinders the spread of the Gospel.  Hence, our pain and sufferings may be the result of naïve people believing Satan’s lies and deception, and choosing to commit his moral evil. You see, nothing to do with them…they may just be victims of this whole battle too.

     Third, we must remember who we are serving.  In our ministries and in our lives, are we seeking the approval of the people around us?  Or are we seeking the approval of God?  Scripture says that we cannot serve two masters.  We must choose whom we will serve.

     After being called to this work, I genuinely believed that serving God was an honorable thing…but as it turns out, not everyone shares my views…and why would they?  God has created us all so uniquely and gifted us with free will.  Truly, the actions of others can be excruciating and painful, as I am sure you are well aware.  But over these past few months, God has been reminding me that despite their recklessness behavior, they are still made in His image.  His love toward me is relentless (despite my own rebellious ways) and His love for them is just as passionate.  It is not my job to judge their decisions, or seek retaliation and revenge in the wake of my pain. God simply wants me to love them.  

A Flashback...

20^th of November, 2015

So, I have been a little silent recently when it comes to my media accounts.  It has been nearly two months since my last blog post and I haven’t posted many updates on facebook either.  Nevertheless, the work here still continues.  And I apologize for slacking a bit on updating you, as my ministry partners and prayer team, but in the words of my childhood friend, “If you can’t say something nice then don’t say nothin’ at all.”  My friend, Thumper, was right. And I hate to admit it, but it has been a tough season these past couple of months. And on more than one occasion, the words running through my head (and my heart) are surely not what God wants me posting across your computer screens.

There have been several days when I have wanted to post something…anything!!, just to vent some of this overflow of emotions welling up inside of me.  Some days I would just get so frustrated. Then I would realize my frustration and become all the more frustrated about allowing myself to become frustrated in the first place. 

Still, I did not want anything leaving my lips—or my fingertips—that was not from God. So, I have been sitting quiet for a little while.  Years ago such ‘punishment’ would have been right close to torture for me.  Back then, I always had an opinion about everything and I was always willing to share it.  Fortunately, Jesus has been helping me to build a filter and I have calmed down since those days…but even these past few weeks have been challenging for me.  Luckily, I have resisted the temptation to fall back into my old ways and I have remained silent.

And I am glad that I have done just that because when I stopped talking, God started talking. 
Well, it is probably more accurate to say that He was there talking to me all along; I was just too busy fumbling with my own words (and opinions, and thoughts, and ideas, and plans) that I couldn’t hear His.

But in the quiet of the day…(which doesn’t happen too often..) I have been hearing this scripture scroll through my mind:

"Look how far you have fallen from your first love!

Turn back to me again and work as you did at first."

Rev. 2:5

I don’t know what is going to happen in the next days, weeks, or month to come, but I have a feeling that God is at work.  In just a few days I will be returning to the US to celebrate the holiday season with family and friends.  Often, missionaries refer to this time as ‘vacation.’  While I will be on vacation from my daily routine…I get the sense that it is going to be anything but a vacation for my spiritual journey. 

And that is perfectly okay with me. 

Finding The Strength...

I have to be honest—When my alarm went off at 5:00am Friday morning, my first thought was, “Lord, I am gonna need you to get me through the day.”  It had already been a long week.  I was exhausted and I barely had the energy or willpower to roll out of bed.  I had no idea how I was going to last for another 16 hours.  But I knew that lying there any longer wouldn’t help either, so I talked myself out of bed. 

No surprise, I didn’t have the energy to good breakfast either.  And quarrelling with the little charcoal stove was not on my to-do list for the day.  I slathered a piece of dry bread with some pb & j and walked my three miles to school.

On Fridays, I am responsible for teaching the student chapel before lunch. Then, at the end of the school day I take a handful of my kiddos to Deaf church for Bible study.  As I pondered the day ahead, I realized that it was 7:12am and already I was looking for a pace to sit…how on earth was I going to make it?

Apparently, I had forgotten that my strength is not dependent on the quality of sleep I got (or didn’t get) the night before.  My strength is in Him—and unlike me, He does not grow weary.  Little did I know, He was about to give me a little lesson on that verse…

After finishing the science lesson with my 4^th graders, I began preparing for the chapel service.  For most of the morning I had been dreading it, but at some point, late in the morning, I began feeling a sense of excitement.  A subtle assurance that it was going to be okay.

Turns out, it was not okay—it was fabulous!

The memory verse of the week had been Ephesians 6:11 and I began teaching the students about the importance of wearing the armor of God.  I had prepared a couple of demonstrations and was very happy to see how attentive my young students were.  As always, I concluded the lesson and asked if there were any questions.  Initially, my babies sat silent. No one ever wants to be the first to raise their hand.  But scripture says that where 2 or more are gathered, God is in their midst.  And I know for sure that He was there in that classroom.

Soon, hands began to rise and questions started floating my way…and before long I had questions and comments coming from all corners of the room:

“The helmet protects our head…what about our eyes?”

“Why does the Bible tell us to wear armor? I thought God doesn’t like fighting…”

“Is Moses in heaven?”

I could see that God was really speaking to their hearts and I smiled as I gazed around the room.  Nearly every student had ‘concentration’ stamped across their foreheads. Gears were turning and the questions continued:

“If Satan asks for forgiveness, will God let him into heaven?”

“How many times will God forgive me when I sin?”

“Is it okay for Christians to eat pork?”

“What is the book of life?”

“God made the world…but who made God?”

For nearly two hours we sat in that classroom and discussed and pondered the Word of God.  I am confident that in a perfect world, we could have continued our conversation until the sun went down.  But, unfortunately, this place isn’t perfect; time is limited…and my kids had to eat lunch.  Nonetheless, I promised them that we could resume the conversation later.

As I prepared for bed later that night, my heart was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude for God.  My mind was wandering in a dozen different directions, replaying the events of the day and thanking God for the work He is doing deep within each of my babies.

Then it suddenly dawned on me—it was almost midnight and I was wide awake!  Nearly 17 hours before, my body could barely muster enough energy to keep me standing upright.  And there I was, lying in bed, bouncing with energy!

“…but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”  Isaiah 40:31

I had read that verse so many times before.  I had heard it quoted and I had even done so myself…but on Friday night that verse finally became real to me.

This life in Uganda is not easy—nearly every day I find myself standing at the foot of a mountain and God is asking me to climb.  I look around, see only my utter weakness and physical fatigue and I quickly become busy looking for alternative routes and shortcuts.  For years I had read and believed the scriptures that said my strength is in Him…and it wasn’t until Friday that I truly understood what God had been saying to me.  He really IS my strength—literally, figuratively, spiritually.  He hasn’t called me to this place so that I can do this and that…He has called me here so that HE can do it.

What a peaceful realization. 

Stories With New Endings...

I began this blog post several months back, but hesitated to post it.
After much thought and prayer, I have decided to share—for no other reason except that I know God is going to use such stories to reveal His power and grace. He is the author of life and the author of our lives. He alone is orchestrating a remarkably beautiful redemptive story in each of us.

When people learn that I am a full-time missionary in Africa, the responses are usually about the same.
“Wow! That must be so rewarding.”
“…so much fun.”
“…so exciting.”
“…such a blessing.”
Most people hold a positive perspective as far as what life is like over here.
And that is great. I think many people in my same position would agree that we do our best to shine a positive light on how God is working in each of our ministries. We try to dispel myths and stereotypes while highlighting some of the different and unique aspects of our new culture. Our facebook photos display beautiful, bright-eyed babies, children dancing, and mommas smiling. It is very easy to see why we love our lives here; why we are thankful that God has called us to serve him in such a delightfully mysterious yet elusive place.
Most days, I wake up ready to face the day. With joy and excitement, I anticipate seeing God work in a way that only He can. I am eager to see each of my children, teach them something new, and watch their eyes smile as God gently reveals a little more of Himself to them.
Most nights, I lay in bed and smile. Replaying the events of the day in my mind, I am able to see God’s grace more clearly. His presence in those moments is unquestionable and I drift to sleep with a peaceful, contented heart.
I wish I could say that every day is like that—that every day is perfect and my heart is always quiet, at peace, and intact.
But the truth is, some days just suck.
And I don’t typically use such words…but this past Friday…UUgggghhhh!!
I don’t even know if I have the words to describe the hurt and anger that my heart was (and still is) feeling. When I arrived at school, my babies were all in class. And just like every other day, I peeked into each class, greeted the teachers, and waved ‘Hello’ to my little munchkins. It was nearly break-time so I took a quick walk down the street, bought the kids some mangoes, and returned to school. The morning was off to a good start…until break time.
As the kids began meandering about, I noticed a small crowd gathering outside of Primary 2 (second grade). Being the curious little mamma that I am, I wandered over to see what all the commotion was about.
In the middle of the crowd, stood little Simon*, approximately 8 years old and not much taller than my waist. His eyes were cast down to the ground, avoiding eye contact with anyone. As I approached, the other students saw me coming and immediately their petite arms and tiny fingers got busy telling me what happened.
Simon was beaten by his mother the night before.
My eyes assessed at his little frame, slumped over and clearly overwhelmed with embarrassment, shame, and physical pain. I snagged his attention and asked him if what I was hearing was true. Slowly and gently, he nodded his head and quickly turned his gaze back to the ground.
I didn’t want to believe that what he said was true, but the injuries spoke for themselves. A massive lump on the back of his head. A severely swollen forearm. And dozens of scratches scattered across his back.
I could feel my pulse quicken. How could something like this happen?!
I did my best not to look too alarmed, for fear that it would just scare Simon and the other kids, whose eyes were closely monitoring my every move. (Pretty sure I failed—there is just something about the sign language user inside me than spills out all of my emotions through my face. And my kiddoes, being deaf, are very receptive to that.) Nonetheless, I found the head teacher and asked if she was aware of the situation. It was still early in the day so she had not yet seen Simon, nor was she aware of what had happened the night before. I explained the injuries to her and to my surprise, there was little reaction or emotion to what I was telling her. Desperately, I asked what we as the school could do to ensure that the boy would be safe when he returned back home at the end of the school day.
Her response: ‘Nothing. It is the parents right to discipline their child as they see fit.’
What?!?! Are you kidding me?
I am all about disciplining children—I even got my fair share of it when I was a child. Discipline is healthy. It is even Biblical. God disciplines each of us in a variety of ways. He does it to protect us; to guide us, and to help us become strong men and women of Christ.
But there is a big difference between discipline and abuse. What I had just seen evidence of, was NOT discipline. That was blatant, unrestrained, deliberate abuse. And to make matters worse, I was being told that there was nothing I could do about it.
Surely, when I decided to become a full-time missionary (and by ‘decided’ I mean, I agreed to be obedient and follow God’s call for me) I knew the work would not be easy. I had done the research and I had seen the statistics. I had even peered into the eyes of a young deaf girl and had seen the pain of rejection and neglect. I understood that the young people God had called me to serve were suffering from a host of agonizing experiences that I could never relate to.
At least I thought I understood that.
For the past two years I have been overwhelmingly blessed. Each day, my students greet me with the most beautiful smiles. More often than not, their giggles echo throughout the school like a beautiful song. And on several occasions, I have even seen them laugh so hard, tears poured from their eyes. It is hard to overlook the joy and excitement that they express every day.
But as time goes on, it has become equally as difficult to overlook the heartache and grief that each of them carries. Despite their happy appearance, all of my students have a story. A story of sorrow and condemnation and abandonment.
Slowly, I am learning some of the painful realities my students are carrying on their little shoulders and within their fragile hearts. It is an unsettling process to hear such tragic accounts. And it might sound crazy, but I want to know these little details. I want to know why they are sad and what causes them to push me away. I want to know what makes them cry at night and how to dry their tears. I want to know their fears and the thoughts that run through their head when no one is around. But most of all, I want them to know how much they are loved. The world may be telling them otherwise, but the truth is God loves them sooooo…much!
I know how much I love and cherish each of them. But I also know that God loves them exponentially more than I ever could—which is hard, even for me, to understand. Still, I pray for these precious little souls, that despite all of the pain and heartache that they have had to endure, they are able to see and experience the love that God so desperately wants to pour out onto them. I pray that God guides me and directs me as He teaches me how to minister to each child; that my love for them will be a glimpse of the great love He has for them.
Granted, I do not yet know all of the stories, but I am convinced it is because God knows that my heart could not handle all of that at one time. He is gradually exposing my students’ pasts and showing me the next steps to take to help them heal. Some steps are harder than others, but I trust Him. And I hold tight to His promise that He sees the beginning from the end. He will never leave us or forsake us. He is our Heavenly Father. Therefore, deep down in my heart I know that He truly cares for my babies and is masterfully writing remarkable, redemptive endings to each of these tragic stories.
And while He is doing all of that, He continues to write my story as well…

Being Made New...

As my first year here in Uganda begins to draw to a close, I have been spending a lot of time evaluating (and reevaluating) the past few months. 
What has God accomplished?
How have lives been eternally impacted?
Where has God made the biggest changes in my life?
What about the ‘little’ changes?
What changes still need to be made in me?

That last question is one that I can’t seem to shake this morning.  God has done so much in my heart over the last year.  There are countless times when I just stand in awe of Jesus and all that His name represents.  Other times, my heart has been broken into millions of unidentifiable little pieces; shattered beyond repair.

But then, it is as if God reaches inside my chest, grabs hold of all the pieces, and tenderly molds my heart together again. 

The Bible reassures us that he makes everything new.  There is no doubt that I have seen my share of ‘new’ this year…but today I feel like God is saying, ‘I’m not done yet.”  There is still more that He wants to accomplish. 

The only thing stopping him? 

Me.

As many of us know, choosing to walk with God leads us into the middle of a battlefield.  Our adversary has an arsenal of weapons he uses in an attempt to weaken us and dissuade us from walking in righteousness with Christ.

Several months back, this battle became very real for me when someone I thought I could trust, joined forces with Satan and spoke awful accusations against me.  I wish I could say that the slanderous lies went in one ear and out the other.  I wish I could say that I wasn’t affected by the whole mess. 

But words hurt.
The situation caused me to question the intentions of the people around me. 
It made me keenly aware of my ‘outsider’ status and it was a painful reminder of the sinful nature of people—even those that claim to follow Jesus.
When the drama struck, my people-pleasing nature shifted into second gear.  I immediately wanted to do damage control and win over the heart of my accuser.  I wanted to defend myself and make the person understand that what they had said was a lie straight from the deceitful mouth of Satan.
I wanted to do and say a lot of things…but I didn’t.  Instead, God caused me to be silent. 

Looking back, I can now see how much the attack affected me.  In the past few months I have seen myself holding back, in more ways than one.  I have been afraid of exposing my heart—afraid that my sincerity and genuine desire to love the people here and serve God will be misinterpreted and used to damage the ministry God is doing here.  I have been afraid that Satan might seek to deceive others.  I didn’t realize it, but I have been afraid of being rejected by the ones I am called to love.

I have been walking in fear of what Satan might do rather than walking in the TRUTH of Christ.

This morning God has really poured out his love on me.  He has been revealing my faults and has extending his grace and forgiveness.  There is still plenty more that He desires to do in and through me.  He has made it very clear that His work is not finished.  Likewise, the work He has put before me is also incomplete.  He has not called me to be timid; He has called me to walk boldly with Him.  He wants me to run this race with perseverance while he secures my steps and make straight the path before me. 

This road that God has called me to travel is not easy but He promises that I will never have to walk it alone.  As a follower of Jesus, I have become a new creation.  But becoming ‘new’ is not a one-time event—it is a process.  The woman I am today is not the woman I was last year.  And I am thankful for all of the ways He continues to make me new.  Walls are being torn down, bridges are being built…and I am becoming the woman He desires me to be.

An Escalator Kind of Day...

Have you ever had one of those days where you are staring at the face of an impossible mountain?  But instead of climbing up the mountain it feels like you are running against a fast-moving escalator? Every step forward takes you three steps backwards.  You are out of breath and exhausted, but you look around and realize there are only two ways to exit the moving stairs.

You could just give up and be dragged back to square one. That would be okay, except that you are not the only one climbing the stairs.  There are people behind you.  So as your lifeless body is overtaken by gravity, those that are in your path would also be taken down with you.  Most likely, you and everyone else will experience a less-than-soft landing on the solid, unwelcoming, ground below.  People will suffer injuries—bumps and bruises, scrapes, and perhaps some broken bones. 

As you continue scaling the agonizing stairs you realize that giving up is really not a possibility after all.  The only option you have is to keep going.  Even then, it is likely that your body will sustain injuries—possible weak or torn muscles, chest pain, shortness of breath, headache, nausea. 

The only way to conquer this challenge is to tap into an alternate energy source.  In other words, reach deep into your soul and find some type of inspiration to keep your body from collapsing. It may be the toughest obstacle you have ever faced, but imagine the feeling when you eventually reach the top.  Joy. Relief. Excitement.  Accomplishment.

Today has been one of those conquer-the-escalator days.  And I will be honest: it is not the first time I have experienced this.  And I am confident that today is probably not the last encounter either. Each day brings its own set of challenges but there are some days when it is just too much.  People’s unrealistic expectations, the negative comments, the mounting to-do list, the surrounding desperation, the schedule, the sleep deprivation, the language!  It is all just too overwhelming. 

I think the main reason all of this is so difficult is because I am somewhat of a perfectionist.  I am a people-pleaser and I don’t like making mistakes.  In my ‘previous’ life, these characteristics were advantageous.  I was a sign language interpreter, working full-time in hospitals and medical clinics.  Making a mistake was highly discouraged, to say the least.  A mistake could mean the difference between an appendix surgery and a leg amputation.  Okay, so maybe that is a little far-fetched, but a slight mistake could mean that my patient gets 200 mg of tramadol instead of the prescribed 20 mg of trazodone.  So, my perfectionism was appreciated in the hospitals. 

Now it is a different story.  I have been called to a place that I know nothing about.  I am not a trained teacher.  I have never been to seminary.  And I don’t speak Luganda.  That is a whole lot of NEW all at one time.  Needless to say, there have been a lot of mistakes made.

Currently, my biggest frustration is the language.  As if learning one language isn’t difficult enough, I am learning two new languages at the same time: Luganda and Ugandan Sign Language. The sign language has not caused me much of a headache.  I am pretty sure my brain was wired for it.  Plus, I have studied ASL—its grammar, syntax, morphemes, lexicalizations…all that linguistic stuff.  Granted, ASL and USL are very different from each other, sign language seems to come pretty natural for me. 

Spoken language, on the other hand, does not.  For the past six months, a friend from church has been helping me learn some vocabulary.  He has been amazingly patient and we have had a lot of fun.  Recently, I have begun hearing comments from people at church that I should be able to ‘understand everything in Luganda now’ and that I should ‘only speak in Luganda.’  My initial thought to all of these comments is, “Umm…excuse me. Did you become fluent in English in only six months? No? Okay, didn’t think so.”  (Most times I exercise self-control and just keep that comment to myself…most times.)

But in order to become fluent in Luganda, I have to practice speaking it, right?  Well, every time I attempt to practice, people laugh.  Whether I pronounce words correctly or incorrectly I am followed by a cloud of laughter.  And this is where the whole ‘perfectionist’ dilemma comes in.  I don’t like being laughed at.  Especially when I am trying my best to adapt to their language, their culture, their everything.  I now find myself avoiding Luganda conversations.  When people rattle off a ton of Luganda to me, knowing that I don’t understand but simply wanting to laugh at my reaction, I casually say, “Simanyi” and do my best to duck out of the area.  I am essentially allowing the Luganda escalator to drag me down.  Now I know some of these people probably have good intentions of forcing me to learn, but little do they know, it is not encouraging. 

For the past week or two, I have been harboring a bad attitude about learning Luganda. 

Today, God convicted me of my attitude. He reminded me that He hasn’t called me here for my own enjoyment.  He has called me here to serve Him. 
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Sometimes that means my day will be filled with giggling babies, laugh-til-your-tummy-hurts conversations with friends, smile-til-your-face-hurts experiences, a focused agenda, and a confident assurance that I am walking hand-in-hand with Jesus.  Other times, it means that I will be extremely insecure and distracted, pondering serious self-doubts, and consumed by emotions and unanswered questions. Whether my eyes are filled with tears of laughter or tears of frustration, one thing remains the same—God’s faithful promise to never leave me or forsake me. (Deut. 31:6)

Therefore I do not lose heart. Though outwardly I am wasting away, yet inwardly I am being renewed day by day.  For my light and momentary troubles are achieving an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So I fix my eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)

That right there is quite a reality check, but I have also been reminded of this: “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.” Colossians 3:23 

Though my instinct is to satisfy the desires of others, I must keep focused on the mission that God has entrusted to me, and to you.  He has called all of us to worship Him and Him alone, making no room for idols in our lives.  I have identified and recognized my weaknesses.  Now I must guard my heart from the intrusion of idols and the relentless distractions from the world.  To do this, requires daily surrender and an intentional decision to seek God’s face.  Every thought needs to be taken captive and every decision needs to be scrutinized to be sure that I am walking in the will of God.

It is often said that “God will never give you more than you can handle.”

I will be the first in line to tell you that that is a lie—He WILL and DOES give you more than you can handle.  There are a lot of things in life that I am not so sure about, but that is not one of them.  Recently, I asked God to draw me in and teach me a deeper level of dependency on Him.  Well, folks, that is exactly what He is doing.  And it is uncomfortable and awkward and painful.  There are days when I just want to curl up in bed with my snuggly, purple snowflake, fleece blanket and cry.  (Today is one of those days, but there is no time for crying now.) But through it all, good or bad, I know that Jesus is standing alongside me, hand-in-hand, showing me the next step to take.

I am currently running up the ‘Learn Luganda Escalator.”  My mind is exhausted and it is tempting to just give up.  Fortunately, I am not scaling this travelling staircase alone.  God is with me and I cannot wait until I am able to experience the magnificent view from the top.