A Supernatural Love

"God wasn't messing around with unity. 

He doesn't have another plan. 

He was smart to give us different gifts - 

not giving all gifts to one person so that we would need each other."

-West African church leader

In our final stop, we stayed in the same home for eleven nights. Many of those nights found us gathered in this living room with different groups of friends listening to stories from Africa. What I loved, loved, loved was these three girls who would tip-toe downstairs and listen any chance they got. How lovely to spend summer nights as a teen sitting at the feet of a faith leader from a culture not your own. May there be a supernatural love that blooms from the seeds that were planted.

Seven people, a dog, and two fish

“A true spirituality cannot be constructed, built, or put together; 

it has to be recognized in the daily life of people

who search together to do God’s will in the world.”

-Henri Nouwen

Seven people, a dog, and two fish traveling through Missouri, Arkansas, Texas, and Kentucky is a heck of a way to spend a summer. Only one night did we need to find a hotel room. Otherwise, we were eating our meals and resting our heads in the homes of ministry champions, as Nouwen said, searching together to do God's will in the world. We didn't create the stories, but each day were welcomed into the unfolding purposes of God.  The highlights make the newsletters, but a lot more time was spent in logistics, laundry, and lingering with people. We saw so much of God's glory 

masquerading as a road trip.

I think of all the radiance of Jesus as "scary man Jesus" (as our middle school class named Jesus of Revelation) with blazing fire eyes and double-edged sword mouth, only for him to choose to hide that radiance and take the humbling form of a man. To need to be fed, to rest, to do laundry. Most of his life was spent on these things. "God will be who God will be. And God has chosen to be Jesus, the Christ." (Seth Bouchelle) A God who could choose to be anything chose to be the fullness of the deity in bodily form.

I recently read that we are the only religion who believes our God became flesh. That fullness lives in us now as we set off for our travels, as we believe for the unseen work in the world....and as we do laundry.

In Her Honor

Philip's dad's birthday celebration in October 2022

Aunt Carla is second from the left

This past weekend Philip gathered with his extended family in eastern Kentucky to say a hard and sudden goodbye to his Aunt Carla. 

I want you to know about this woman whose life was lived to the full all the way to the day of her death. Her story overlaps with yours in a surprising way.

Many, many years ago, Aunt Carla visited her son Chad, who was serving as a church planting missionary in West Africa.  A NICU nurse by trade, when Aunt Carla visited as a missionary's mom, she couldn't help but notice the babies dying unnecessarily due to lack of resources. True to her nature, she saw a need and set out to fix it. The way I've heard the story is that, upon returning to the States, whenever her small group from church would meet, she would set out a jar labeled "Formula for Babies." She made it easy and convenient for her friends to join her in preventing future tragedies like the ones she had witnessed. By the time our family moved to West Africa nearly a decade later, that little village she visited in West Africa had a full-fledged formula ministry. 

When we realized ninety percent of the babies who came to us didn't need to be placed - they had an aunt or grandmother who would like to care for them after the mother's death - we didn't have to invent the wheel. We learned from the formula ministry Aunt Carla inspired in the town four hours away.

If you have, like us, ever looked at our ministry and marveled at what God has done, rest assured we did not do it alone. What we do now is built upon the ones who came before us, like Aunt Carla who visited our country of service long before we did! Join us in thanking God for her today, and for all who stepped out in faith along the path before us.

Love Lived Out

 

"We cannot obtain the blessing of maturity unless our faith takes seriously the human experience of the tragedy and pain, and unless it bears that experience without belittling it with facile religious comforts. Mature belief is patient dwelling in the night of mystery.
    ....Mature faith is always faith wounded by the world's suffering. We recognize it by its scars - in the same way that the resurrected Christ identified Himself to His apostles with His scars. Yes, only in this way and at this cost can we acquire a new name, a name denoting the chosen people: the one who contended and prevailed."
-Patience with God, Tomas Halik

A couple of weeks ago, Emily and Titus returned to their school building. Immediately after that, Philip returned to West Africa. We have done this for so long, I was utterly unprepared for how hard this particular trip would be. Don't get me wrong, it was absolutely wonderful he was there. He took great risks to go "home" and was rewarded with such depth and treasures of sharing in the laughter of our team and meeting the thriving babies in the ministry. But here at home, this trip was harder than most. When I read Halik's words above, it made perfect sense. We have been wounded by the world's suffering. As the Messiah's little siblings, he has contended for us and prevailed. We come into this holiday season with those scars from the human experience of tragedy and pain, but also with the hope that comes from seeing love lived out, both near and far.

Death's Days Are Numbered Too

In Lauren Daigle's song "Rescue," there is a line that says:

I will send out an army to find you in the middle of the darkest night

These are exactly the words I would use to describe that first week after the school attack, and I want to share it with you. When evil is so bold, it really does take an army of goodness to overcome, which is exactly what we had.

The first wave of the army were, of course, the teachers who placed themselves between their students and the hallway, the school staff who risked their lives to run through the hallways checking that the classroom doors had locked properly, and the police who "did not hesitate" in stopping the violence.

But that was just the first wave.

In the hours and days that followed, there was more. 

Mr. Jeremiah came over and built puzzles with Anne, who had more playdates in a week than she usually gets in a month.

The first two nights friends dropped off dinner. Then one of my sisters had thirteen bags of groceries delivered, not only feeding us but filling us with special treats as well.

Friends sent messages of wisdom, encouragement, and funnies to Emily and Titus. 

I printed and hung them as a visible reminder of how loved they are and of all the people who were praying on their behalf.

There have been multiple healing events in the community as well.

There was a lament and prayer service at one of the churches 

and then a vigil in front of the school.

On a beautiful Sunday afternoon, there was a picnic gathering in the park. Community businesses donated tons of food and the park pavilion so that families and staff could be together. It was so good to talk to the teachers in whose classrooms Emily and Titus had been, to talk to other parents and process the tragedy, and to see our kids laughing and enjoying their friends.

Finally, this past weekend there was a healing event outside the school which, according to the organizer, was inspired by a vision from God. Again, community restaurants donated food and all the gear to bring the school community together, including the families of those who did not make it out that day.

At the end of the night was a lantern release with a choir singing of Jesus's promise to never leave us.

Throughout these two weeks, we have carried the words of Matthew McCullough:

"The more we carefully number our days, 

the more joyfully we'll hear that death's days are numbered, too." 

When normal life stops

Today is the last day of the annual Hungry Months Challenge. My passion for this work, however, is just now kicking into gear.

This week a gunman came into our children's school shouting, "You are all going to die!" Thanks to the heroes we call teachers, administrators, and police, almost everybody made it out. The entire community grieves for those who did not. In the days following the event, we were loved from near and far. Normal life stopped so healing could be the focus. A week later, there is still no plan for when school will start back up. In the meantime, we flooded our lives with comforts we usually say "no" to: eating at restaurants, Philip returning early from Africa, a two night getaway at a cabin to reconnect as a family with God and each other, buying trinkets in the gift shop. All of this feels reasonable when our hearts are hemorrhaging.

And then there are our friends in West Africa. They have gunmen, too. They have surprise attacks on their daily lives. Women and children see their men be shot. And their aftermath? They run for their lives. They leave home, belongings, and the bodies of their husbands and fathers behind. They are not flooded with creaturely comforts like we were; they lose their livelihoods with everything else.

In this week of understanding the threats, the violence, and the trauma, I want to step up the care for displaced people living without comforts and margin. Can we at least give them their next meal? Of course we can! We have the team on the ground. Will you be the team in the States?

GIVE TO THE FOOD CRISIS HERE

Thank you!

He Will Rescue You

Do you know Lauren Daigle's song "Rescue"? 

It came on the radio on a Wednesday morning as I drove past my children's school. This was two days after a school shooting that rocked the community and our lives. The police cars were gone, but the news crews remained. The makings of a flower memorial had begun. 

And Lauren Daigle sang about innocence stolen. 

The buckets of tears that hadn't yet fallen just kept coming.

When I hear these lyrics, a slideshow of images scroll through my brain. Since I can't (and wouldn't want to) share those images, I am posting Lauren's lyrics below in bold with a few notes. The italics are my addition, some application for this week. One verse about Emily and Titus, one verse about Philip, one verse to me, and finishing out with the whole community. The slow pace of the song fits perfectly with a single week that seemed to last forever.

I realize not everyone wants to go to these hard places with me. That's okay. Keep on scrolling. We'll return to updates from Africa soon, but for now, we are in this.

Rescue

You are not hidden

    Though Emily and Titus and 700 of their peers were in hiding, they were not hidden
There's never been a moment
You were forgotten
You are not hopeless
Though you have been broken
Your innocence stolen

    *tears*

He heard them whisper underneath their breath

    when making any noise at all was too dangerous a risk
He heard their SOS, their SOS

    huddled with their classmates against the classroom wall

I will send out an army to find you

    This army looked like teachers as pillars of strength in their classrooms, school administrators executing the practiced intruder plan, and a swarm of officers who "did not hesitate"
in the middle of the darkest night
    otherwise known as first period on a Monday morning

It's true, He will rescue them

There is no distance
That cannot be covered

Over and over

    He says to the father 5,000 miles away
You're not defenseless
I'll be your shelter
I'll be your armor
I hear you whisper underneath your breath

    Trying to hold it together on a plane full of strangers
I hear your SOS, your SOS

I will send out an army to find you

    There will be friends in West Africa to meet you, co-workers who bless your quick departure, and a board who supported the decision to return home 
in the middle of the darkest night 
it's true, I will rescue you
I will never stop marching to reach you
in the middle of the hardest fight
It's true, I will rescue you.

I hear the whisper underneath your breath "I don't know how to do this."
I hear you whisper, my faith has nothing left
I will send out an army to find you 

    They will bring dinner and send groceries. They will call, they will text, and they will email words of encouragement and wisdom. They will pray, and they will not let you fall.
in the middle of the darkest night or the longest days
It's true, He did rescue us

    With weeks or months until the school reopens
He will never stop marching to reach these 700 kids
in the middle of the hardest fight
it's true, He will rescue you