The Answer to "What's Next?"

Two and a half years ago I entered into a family. I wouldn’t have told you that’s what was happening at the time, because I didn’t recognize it. At the time, I just thought I was fulfilling my requirements of student teaching and internships. Walking in the doors that first day, I knew my experience was going to be special. I knew I had been given a great opportunity to learn from some of the best. But a family? I didn’t realize I was getting that too.

I spent two semesters interning at this small school. I loved every second of it. But when I graduated in December of 2011, I pretty much thought this school had served its purpose in my life. The school had been great, taught me many things, blessed me with great relationships and mentors, and challenged me to be a better teacher. In my mind, their purpose had been served and exceeded all my expectations.

So a month later when grown-up world hit me and I realized my current job wasn’t going to be enough to pay the bills, I wasn’t sure what I would do. I did know I missed my kids though. I had some free time so I thought I’d go surprise them with a visit. I pulled into the parking lot one Monday morning, just planning to say hello. And I did that. But I also left with a part-time job. God answered my prayers and He also allowed me more time with my favorite kids. More time to learn and grow as a teacher. In the six months that followed I was able to get to know more than just my 22. I formed relationships with more of the staff. They became not just my mentors, but my friends. 

And then, when I had yet another time of uncertainty, God used this school to provide for my needs again. I had these awkward couple of months before leaving for training for Zambia, and I wasn’t really sure what to do with them. I wasn’t anticipating being able to get any type of job in the school system because I could only work for six weeks. But instead, I was given a full-time job by this school for those six weeks.

Maybe you’re reading this thinking, that’s cool. What a nice school. But it’s more than that. It’s hard for me to put into words what this school, or more specifically the people (small and tall) who make it up, mean to me. While I was in Zambia, they were some of my biggest supporters and encouragers. I got packages. I got letters. I got e-mails. I got a yearbook signed by every single student and staff member. Every single one. I really do consider them family. I’m not sure at what point they became my family. Maybe it was in those last six weeks before leaving for Zambia that I realized just how at home I felt there. How much I loved and felt loved. How much I learned and how much I taught. Maybe it was some time before then.

And so entering into this current season of transition, I thought it was probably too much to expect that God would once again use this school to meet my needs. But as God so often does, He has exceeded my expectations and is allowing me to rejoin my family for the next school year starting in August. To say I am thankful is an understatement. To say I’m humbled doesn’t even begin to cover it. To say that the thought of seeing my kids on the first day of school doesn’t give me chills and bring tears to my eyes would be a lie. Because I’m going home. Back to my family. And I can’t think of anywhere else I’d want to be for the "what's next" of my life.

My Flesh and my Heart May Fail...

My flesh and my heart may fail,

But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

Psalm 73:26

I don’t even know where to begin with this post. It’s a post I never thought I’d be writing. It’s one I never wanted to write. But here I am, writing it. And it’s hard to know what to say.

I’m back in South Carolina. Back from my assignment in Zambia. And no, it’s not October 2014. It hasn’t been two years. And yet here I find myself.

Let me start by saying this, the Lord is faithful. That I know to be true. Though my heart and flesh fail, my God never will. I am certain of that and confident in that.

My time in Zambia was the hardest six months of my life. I am not saying in any way that every day was bad or even that every single day was hard. There were many days filled with joy. Constant laughs with three wonderful missionary children who I grew to love deeply, who called me “Aunt Melanie,” smiles from four beautiful Zambian girls every day as I pulled into the driveway, friendships, church services full of the Holy Spirit. My time with the Lord during those six months was more intimate and sweet than it has ever been as I had plenty of time to slow down and really just sit with God as He taught me what it meant to trust Him, depend on Him, and rely on Him. I saw God move in some great ways among the Tonga people. In fact, I still see Him doing some awesome things among the Tonga. I am trusting Him to continue to work and move in big ways through the nationals and the missionaries that remain.

And yet, I now find myself thousands of miles away from it all. Like I said, it’s hard to know what to say. I can say this, I crumbled. I fell apart. I fell into a really dark place. Like I said, my heart and flesh fail. And that’s all I know to say that happened right now. I had a number of struggles on the field that honestly, I'm not sure are really the general public’s business. Or at least this blog is not the place for them. 

Maybe in the weeks and months ahead, I’ll have more words. Maybe this is it. Maybe it’s one of those things where words aren’t really enough, because it’s a deeply personal thing and I don’t have to have the words to explain it because God knows my heart and understands. In the next week or so I will be posting some details about what's next and how God has completely humbled me with His faithfulness so far.

Healing will take time. On both sides of the world. But this I know: God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. And I can trust Him. I can abide in Him. I can rest in His peace. He is faithful. He will heal. 

Come, let us return to the LORD;

for he has torn us, that he may heal us;

he has struck us down, and he will bind us up.

Hosea 6:1

A Snapshot of Namumu

Welcome mat 

Namumu.

It’s a place I’ve prayed would frequent the pages of my journals and blogs. It’s way past time for me to share Namumu with you, so maybe it can frequent your prayers and thoughts and journals too.

Namumu is a community run orphanage that shelters, feeds, and educates orphans and vulnerable children in the Siavonga District of Zambia. (from their website)

Namumu is two-fold. There is the orphanage center. And then on the premises, there is Namumu Primary School (grades 1-7). 

Map of Zambia that is painted on the side of Namumu Primary School

Playground at Namumu Primary School

The school was originally started for the orphanage, but since has been opened up to the community because there was a great need for a school in that part of town. It may only be a 15-20 minute drive for me to get from Namumu to the primary school in town, but it’s a much longer walk, up and down mountainous Siavonga for the kids. On any given school day, you see kids walking up and down the hills to get to school. It’s not like there’s a school bus to come pick them up. By the time they get to school, they’re probably already exhausted. And so Namumu opened up to keep some kids from having to make that trek.

Grade 1 students

Kids here wear uniforms to school. I think it’s another thing that gives them a sense of community. These kids clearly belong to Namumu Primary School because of their green uniforms.

 

Grade 3 students and classroom

The classrooms at the school are, well, not the ideal classrooms by American standards. But they are some of the nicest I’ve seen in Siavonga. And the class size is more manageable than most I’ve seen too. There are maybe 30-40 kids per class instead of 60-80 like the main school in town.

And then there’s the orphanage. Right now, Namumu cares for about 55 children, but they have the potential to house up to 80. When I first went to Namumu, I was a little struck by the conditions in the dormortories. There were bats in the ceiling boards and the bat feces were seeping through the boards and down the walls. Sorry if that image grosses you out. But at least you weren’t living in it. I can’t even describe to you the smell. But thankfully, since that first visit, they have taken the ceiling boards out and are in the process of cleaning and repainting the girls' dorm so that they can then move to the boys' dorm, which is in the same conditions.

The girls' temporary housing while their dormitory is going under improvements

So at the moment the girls are living in the chapel while their dorm is repaired. Maybe it doesn’t look ideal to you, but I promise it’s a thousand times better than what they were living in before this move. I was happy to see they carried their “Welcome to our Palace. Feel at Home” sign with them to the chapel. I always found it to be in such stark contrast to their living conditions, but at the same time I loved the message. You are welcome. This is home. 

Namumu does some great work for their kids. Both the girls and the boys have maize fields that they plant and harvest each year. Namumu also raises goats and hens. They currently have 212 hens that lay eggs twice a day. They are then able to sell those eggs and use the money to help support themselves. They also are in the process of starting carpentry and sewing programs so that the children at Namumu can have a means of providing for themselves when they one day venture out on their own.

Namumu's hens

And that’s Namumu. It's just a snapshot of it so that later, as it becomes a bigger part of my story here, you'll know what I'm talking about. Plus, I'm way overdue on a blog update too :)

(And a little shout out for some of my most cherished readers... I love and miss you, Mr. O's class! I'm so thankful I can share my life in Zambia with you even when we're thousands of miles apart from one another! Thanks for encouraging me to update my blog again.)

He Allures Me Still

I've spent the last 16 days camping out in Hosea every morning. Kinda a random place to camp out? Maybe. You probably know the story (at least the Redeeming Love version), but camp out there for 16 days? Well it was well worth it, let me tell you.

At the very beginning of Hosea, we find this little known prophet asked to do something a little crazy--marry a prostitute. Then he is asked to name each of their children with some peculiar names: Jezreel, "No Mercy," and "Not My People." Great names, huh? Hosea's family is to be a picture of how Israel "commits great whoredom by forsaking the LORD" (Hosea 1:2). Ouch.

And then for thirteen more chapters the Lord tells of all Israel's sins, the ways they have left God, and the judgement that is coming their way. It's not a pleasant read. It's really not pretty at all. Just page after page of all Israel's whoring around. It's almost uncomfortable to read.

"Their deeds do not permit them 

to return to their God.

For the spirit of whoredom is within them,

and they know not the LORD" (Hosea 3:4).

"For a spirit of whoredom has led them away;

and they have left their God to play the whore" (Hosea 4:12b).

"You have plowed iniquity;

you have reaped injustice;

you have eaten the fruit of lies,

Because you have trusted in your own way

and in the multitude of your warriors,

therefore the tumult of war shall rise among your people,

and all your fortresses shall be destroyed" (Hosea 10:13-14).

"It was I who knew you in the wilderness,

in the land of drought;

but they were filled, and their heart was lifted up;

therefore they forgot me" (Hosea 13:5-6).

And I shake my head at those Israelites. After all, Hosea is not the first or last book in the Old Testament full of the Lord's plea for Israel to return to Him once again. How could they be so ignorant? How could they continue to rebel?

And then I stop. I am those Israelites. I'd hate to have all my sins and shortcomings written out like theirs. Even recently, I have depended on my strength, run to lesser "gods," and forgotten the true God. And let me tell you, it was rough. I trusted in my own way, and reaped iniquity as a result. I've had some rough days here. I have really struggled at times. Some days, I've struggled well. I've run to the fortress of my God and remembered who He is and rested in His strength and peace. Other days, the struggle hasn't gone so well. I've run to other comforts, other idols, and looked for peace there. And let me tell you there was none.

But the beautiful thing about Hosea, is that woven throughout Israel's sins and judgement are beautiful pictures of God's grace and mercy:

"And I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness. And you shall know the LORD" (Hosea 2:19-20).

"Come let us return to the LORD;

for he has torn us, that he may heal us;

he has struck us down, and he will bind us up" (Hosea 6:1).

"Sow for yourselves righteousness

reap steadfast love;

break up your fallow ground,

for it is the time to seek the LORD,

that he may come and rain righteousness upon you" (Hosea 10:12).

"So you, by the help of your God, return,

hold fast to love and justice,

and wait continually for your God" (Hosea 12:6).

I deserve every bit as much judgement and condemnation as the Israelites. I am no different and no better than them. I have a heart prone to wander just like they did. But that's the beauty of grace. I can't even return to Him without His help. He is steadfast. He is faithful. He is full of grace. I come to Him in my brokenness and sin and He clothes me in the beauty of Christ's righteousness. I go after other lovers, other sources of fulfillment, and He allures me still and speaks tenderly to me (Hosea 2:14). What a Savior we have!

--I read through Hosea as part of an online Bible reading plan with the She Reads Truth community. Check out their website here: www.shereadstruth.com. New reading plan starts tomorrow!--

Let Them Praise His Name with Dancing

“Let them praise his name with dancing,

making melody to him with tambourine and lyre!”

(Ps. 149:3)

“Praise the LORD!

Praise God in his sanctuary;

praise him in his mighty heavens!

Praise him for his might deeds;

praise him according to his excellent greatness!

Praise him with trumpet sound;

praise him with lute and harp!

Praise him with tambourine and dance;

praise him with strings and pipe!

Praise him with sounding cymbals;

praise him with loud clashing cymbals!

Let everything that has breath praise the LORD!

Praise the LORD!”

(Ps. 150)

I love Sundays in Zambia. Absolutely love them. Here’s a glimpse into a Zambian church service at Siavonga Main Baptist Church.

Sunday as I parked my car at the church (I was the only car in the field, as everyone else walks to church, of course) and opened my car door, I heard my favorite sound in all of Zambia—the harmonies of Zambians pouring out their praises to God in their native tongue. I joined my friends Sara and Martha on a pew on the left side of the church with the rest of the ladies. The men are on the right side. And these are some of the things that the next two and a half hours of my life are filled with:

singing, singing, and more singing

We sing choruses with no screen telling us the words and no hymnbook. We sing hymns from the Tonga hymnbook. We sing hymns from the Nyanja hymnbook. There is lots of singing. And let me tell you, Zambians, they can harmonize like no one’s business. Seriously, it’s beautiful every time. There are no instruments, just voices and clapping and shouts of “Ayyyyeeeeee!” as we worship the Savior in spirit and in truth.

dancing

Where there is singing, there is dancing. In fact, on this particular Sunday, the elder leading the beginning of the service stopped us after singing through one verse of a song and told us we were not really dancing like the song said. It was a song about marching and searching here and there and finding there is no one like Jesus. And so we started again, marching, searching, and dancing around the room, then declaring together that there is no one like Jesus.

choir

Okay, so maybe this could have been included with the singing, singing, and more singing heading, but the choir deserves its own section in my book. When it’s time for the choir to sing a selection of songs, women scattered throughout the pews line up on the far left wall behind the choir director. And then they begin singing, stomping, and swaying their way up to the front of the church. I love it. After they are all in place, the choir director hums a few lines of a song and then they begin to sing that song. They have dances that go along with each of their songs. They sing several songs and then return to their seats in the same way they left them—with singing, stomping, and swaying.

offering

This, of course, is done to a song. The same song every Sunday in fact. And you won’t believe what it is. I promise you’ll be surprised. Every Sunday, as we walk up to the front and place our offerings in the baskets, we sing… “Bringing in the Sheaves.” Every week. I have been to several churches and this is true at all of them. Women take their offering up first, and once all the women have placed their offering and returned to their seats, the men take their offerings up.

prayer

If you’re not a person who likes to pray in public, then be thankful you don’t come to Siavonga Main. Because many times, they just call on someone in the congregation to stand up and pray. This Sunday, a lady was asked to pray after the offering. I’m not sure what she was saying, but I can tell you it was good. It was literally the most heartfelt cry out to God I’ve ever heard, and I didn’t understand a word of it. It was beautiful.

sermon

I have been so impressed with the pastors God has raised up at the churches I’ve visited in Siavonga. They preach the word of God with reckless abandon. They’re not worried about stepping on toes or offending anyone. Last week, our sermon was on the Great Commission. The pastor said at one point, “We Zambians, we have been receivers of the Word for too long. It is time for us to be sharers of the Word too.” And this Sunday the sermon was on Jonah. “We are spared every second of every day because God has a plan for deliverance for all people and He uses us to proclaim that deliverance. If we are not doing that, if we are not sharing the Word of God and His salvation, then we are no better than Jonah because we are running from the very thing He has called us to do with our lives.” Preach it, Roderick.

departing

After the sermon (and a few more songs, of course) it’s time to depart. While singing, the pastor exits the church, followed by the rest of the men and then the women and children. But you don’t just get out the door and start walking home. Oh no, that would not do in this culture. When the pastor exits, he stands just outside the door. The person who follows him shakes his hand, then stands beside him. He is followed by the next man who shakes both of their hands and then joins the line. Everyone in the church follows this pattern. That way, every single person greets every single person. No one could possibly be left out. I kinda love it.  It’s pretty wonderful.

And that’s that. That’s Sunday. That’s church at Siavonga Main.