Saturday.
5.15am unwelcome explosion from the alarm, stumble into taxi at 6, onto train at 6.28 and snoozed to London listening to a bit of vintage DC Talk whilst anticipating the Woman to Woman conference and hoping Heidi Baker would be as phenomenal as I anticipated.
Bitterly cold, no coat, enjoyed the view over London from Ally Pally (Alexandra Palace) whilst joining the first of many queues with 4,300 other women. Encounter 1: Aunty Rosie.
Blew my Slimming World day allowance by buying a muffin. Encounter 2: Nadia H and Gill F from Sawyers in Brentwood. We dutifully filed into the Grand Hall to be met with the sight of thousands of women worshipping God. Immediate tears. Danielle Strickland - looks a lot like Ellen Degeneres - speaking on the 2 Hebrew midwives in Exodus who saved Moses' life because they loved God more than they feared Pharoah. Coffee with Aunty Rosie and a great chat. Session 2 with J John, pleasing men-are-stupid jokes mixed in with goooooood teaching. Cried.
Lunch. Mostly spent queuing, deciding the queue was too long, finding another queue, changing my mind, finding another queue. £8.50 on sandwich and crisps (also non-Slimming World) with a S. Sudanese woman - late for session 3. Jill Briscoe, a snappy and smiling 77 year old Brit who has lived in the States for 42 years and spent 22 years in the fourth world (third world inhabitants have bread and water; fourth world do not). Cried.
Encounter 3: Christine and Gwyn R from Peterborough.
FINALLY Heidi Baker. I missed the first part, face on the floor as the Spirit literally creased me in half until I was on the floor. Shabba included. Yielding to God, stories of reaching Mozambican islanders who never heard the Gospel and all responded... ALL of them, and then the chief gave her land for the church to meet. A recent story. I LOVE it. She is intimate with Jesus, daily filled with the Spirit, and living a life of love and submission, relying on her team of 8-12 year old kids who make up the prayer ministry team who prophesy and pray for healing. Worried about catching the train, left before the end. Bitterly cold, met a nice Welsh girl called Jo on the bus and tube to Finsbury Park - farewell with 'see you the other side'. Can't wait.
Struggled with whether to go to neighbours' Halloween party, and reluctantly mumbled 'OK, I'll go' to God as He reminded me if I wasn't there, there would be no light. 1 hour chatting before the tiredness took over so I ate a floating eye-ball and bid adieu to the blood-soaked gang.
Hungry.
Not only because of over-consumption of bread and subsequent craving of all things bulky. But also hungry to know God more, to see Him, to know His design for my life better (I'm sure I miss a LOT of opportunities because I am not paying attention or am stuck in front of the TV). Perhaps not grand and glorious endeavours like Heidi, but small attentions to desperately unhappy people...
Inviting a friend for dinner...
Buying a Big Issue seller a good cuppa coffee...
Helping a drunk person...
Kind words to mum...
Living on less, curbing the constant consumption and chasing Jesus, relying on others for help.
Ooh, tough.
Blessed are those who hunger...
Monday, October 29, 2012
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
When hope is lost I'll call you Saviour
I gave a lift home to a guy on Monday after Alpha and got talking about Uganda and the run-up to moving away. I was reminded of the unique, special and devastating year before climbing on a plane for Africa, and all that God taught and showed me through a period of exceptionally tough circumstances.
I loved a boy. We fell in love in November 2008, and spent 9 months living in each others' pockets dreaming of the future and planning to get married. He was extraordinary - passionate for God and adventure, completely engaging and I loved him with all I was. On 15th August 2009 we broke up, and I was left shattered. During our relationship, I had allowed myself to become shrivelled to fit in his shadow, determined only to support him in his ministry and conveniently forgetting my own. My relationship with God took a backseat, and any time with friends was considered second-best compared to being with him. Something was sealed in my heart the first time I said 'I love you'.
For one year, I mourned. My future was lost because it had become wrapped up in him. My present had dissolved since I had given up interests, hobbies and friends in order to be with him. (For the record, none of this was his fault - I did it quite willingly.) The first 2 weeks, I laid in bed at home crying and devouring the Bible. The only time I felt any peace, the only time the tears stopped was when the Word of God was open and pounding through my imagination as I read. I stopped reading only to sleep, and be awoken with another gut-wrenching sob.
2 months later, my family suffered a terrible shock and we entered into the long, low journey of walking alongside a family member going through his own valley.
And yet, my flat in Brentwood became Jesus' home. I turned off the TV for a solid year and lost appetite for everything other than prayer, reading the Bible and consuming books written by Christian authors, most significantly Shane Claiborne. I knew Jesus in an intense way, moment-by-moment as I wept, prayed and submitted my tattered life to Him. 'If this is it, You can have it'.
He gave me a deep desire at the root of my heart to engage with poverty - to go and meet the poorest of the poor and become part of their lives. There was nothing I wanted more than to sell everything and go to Africa. And exactly one year to the day, on 15th August 2010, I flew to Kampala and started working for a Christian charity called Oasis in a slum called Kyebando.
And so why this slightly depressing recollection now? Well, because it is good to remember the grace of God that is particularly potent when we are particularly broken. It is good to remember that going through a tough time propels you into the arms of the Father, and forces you to shut off the utterly inconsequential (thanks John Piper) and engage with real meaning. Sometimes God changes the inner road of your direction and steers you off to the left, in my case, the extreme left. My life now is richer and fuller because I went to Uganda, which came about because I experienced terrible heartbreak.
So, was it worth it? To love, and lose, and find life on a different track?
I reckon so! And now, back on the 'normal' road of life, work, church, friends; with the daily struggles of finance, family and balancing life, I kinda wish I could revisit one day in the 'year of heartbreak' to feel again the warmth of intimacy with Christ, and the hunger to the point of starvation I felt for the Word of God.
If you are in a hard time - turn off the TV and find a spot to get to know Jesus. Warning: you may end up in Uganda.
I loved a boy. We fell in love in November 2008, and spent 9 months living in each others' pockets dreaming of the future and planning to get married. He was extraordinary - passionate for God and adventure, completely engaging and I loved him with all I was. On 15th August 2009 we broke up, and I was left shattered. During our relationship, I had allowed myself to become shrivelled to fit in his shadow, determined only to support him in his ministry and conveniently forgetting my own. My relationship with God took a backseat, and any time with friends was considered second-best compared to being with him. Something was sealed in my heart the first time I said 'I love you'.
For one year, I mourned. My future was lost because it had become wrapped up in him. My present had dissolved since I had given up interests, hobbies and friends in order to be with him. (For the record, none of this was his fault - I did it quite willingly.) The first 2 weeks, I laid in bed at home crying and devouring the Bible. The only time I felt any peace, the only time the tears stopped was when the Word of God was open and pounding through my imagination as I read. I stopped reading only to sleep, and be awoken with another gut-wrenching sob.
2 months later, my family suffered a terrible shock and we entered into the long, low journey of walking alongside a family member going through his own valley.
And yet, my flat in Brentwood became Jesus' home. I turned off the TV for a solid year and lost appetite for everything other than prayer, reading the Bible and consuming books written by Christian authors, most significantly Shane Claiborne. I knew Jesus in an intense way, moment-by-moment as I wept, prayed and submitted my tattered life to Him. 'If this is it, You can have it'.
He gave me a deep desire at the root of my heart to engage with poverty - to go and meet the poorest of the poor and become part of their lives. There was nothing I wanted more than to sell everything and go to Africa. And exactly one year to the day, on 15th August 2010, I flew to Kampala and started working for a Christian charity called Oasis in a slum called Kyebando.
And so why this slightly depressing recollection now? Well, because it is good to remember the grace of God that is particularly potent when we are particularly broken. It is good to remember that going through a tough time propels you into the arms of the Father, and forces you to shut off the utterly inconsequential (thanks John Piper) and engage with real meaning. Sometimes God changes the inner road of your direction and steers you off to the left, in my case, the extreme left. My life now is richer and fuller because I went to Uganda, which came about because I experienced terrible heartbreak.
So, was it worth it? To love, and lose, and find life on a different track?
I reckon so! And now, back on the 'normal' road of life, work, church, friends; with the daily struggles of finance, family and balancing life, I kinda wish I could revisit one day in the 'year of heartbreak' to feel again the warmth of intimacy with Christ, and the hunger to the point of starvation I felt for the Word of God.
If you are in a hard time - turn off the TV and find a spot to get to know Jesus. Warning: you may end up in Uganda.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Temples and Trees
I have been re-reading the blog of Charlotte & Jon Temple who came to Uganda for 3 months in 2010 and whose friendship and on-the-same-page-ness I really value. I am having a moment of heart-filled affection and wanted to share. A particular highlight has been reading about their trip to Sipi Falls and the unfortunate demise of the Herbal Essences lady... For anyone interested in Ugandan culture and wanting to map a story of spiritual growth, visit charlotteandjon.com and look at the Blog from Uganda. A confession: I only discovered their similarly excellent English Blog today... and I am enjoying it immensely whilst also lamenting that I did not see each post when they were written.
Today, Wednesday 17th October, I realised that I am older today than I have ever been which sparked a trail of reflection. Am I more wise, spiritually mature, knowledgeable and loving towards God today than ever before? Am I more active in all He has called and commissioned me to do? Do I know, love and value Jesus more than ever? Do I strive with longer steps towards heaven bent on a journey of friendship, evangelism, care and focus?
A resounding nope.
And yet among the feelings of disappointment and half-heartedness, Ephesians 1 reminds me that we are blessed in the heavenly realms, chosen to be holy and blameless before the creation of the world, predestined for adoption by God, redeemed through Jesus' blood, forgiven, invited to know the mystery of God's will, guaranteed inheritance. More than that, God delights in us with passion and affection, treasuring our uniqueness and specific bundle of abilities to go where He leads and do as He asks.
Today, there are the grey waters of failure, laziness and disobedience flooding my mind, but instead I (want to) choose to lift my gaze above the horizon onto Jesus. I know that I am not all I should be. And I know that God welcomes me into His throne room today with unbridled, determined love. He knows I am not all I should be! And yet He fills me with His own Essence so that I can throw off my weakness and rely only on His strength. He has covered my past, present and future failings and fully doled out their due punishment. It is done, settled, and I am free to live clothed in the righteousness and acceptability of Christ. I am a daughter of God, loved by Him, given a future and a hope.
I want to change, I want my life to change. I want to know the red-alert urgency of evangelism, the dog-tiredness of serving, the citric invigoration of pennies dropping and the soul-fullness of providing basic supplies to one in need.
Perhaps due to Charlotte's new-found enjoyment of gardening and frequent references to green-fingeredness being linked to Godliness, I picture a tall, wide tree similar to the one below in the picture taken in Tanzania. I pray that God will prune away unnecessary shoots, and focus me upon my primary growth, so I can bear fruit. I want to drink living water, and find my identity, value and purpose in God's stream and not from my own broken bucket (Jer 2:13). I want to bear fruit of God's Spirit, and provide shade to wanderers.
Today, Wednesday 17th October, I realised that I am older today than I have ever been which sparked a trail of reflection. Am I more wise, spiritually mature, knowledgeable and loving towards God today than ever before? Am I more active in all He has called and commissioned me to do? Do I know, love and value Jesus more than ever? Do I strive with longer steps towards heaven bent on a journey of friendship, evangelism, care and focus?
A resounding nope.
And yet among the feelings of disappointment and half-heartedness, Ephesians 1 reminds me that we are blessed in the heavenly realms, chosen to be holy and blameless before the creation of the world, predestined for adoption by God, redeemed through Jesus' blood, forgiven, invited to know the mystery of God's will, guaranteed inheritance. More than that, God delights in us with passion and affection, treasuring our uniqueness and specific bundle of abilities to go where He leads and do as He asks.
Today, there are the grey waters of failure, laziness and disobedience flooding my mind, but instead I (want to) choose to lift my gaze above the horizon onto Jesus. I know that I am not all I should be. And I know that God welcomes me into His throne room today with unbridled, determined love. He knows I am not all I should be! And yet He fills me with His own Essence so that I can throw off my weakness and rely only on His strength. He has covered my past, present and future failings and fully doled out their due punishment. It is done, settled, and I am free to live clothed in the righteousness and acceptability of Christ. I am a daughter of God, loved by Him, given a future and a hope.
I want to change, I want my life to change. I want to know the red-alert urgency of evangelism, the dog-tiredness of serving, the citric invigoration of pennies dropping and the soul-fullness of providing basic supplies to one in need.
Perhaps due to Charlotte's new-found enjoyment of gardening and frequent references to green-fingeredness being linked to Godliness, I picture a tall, wide tree similar to the one below in the picture taken in Tanzania. I pray that God will prune away unnecessary shoots, and focus me upon my primary growth, so I can bear fruit. I want to drink living water, and find my identity, value and purpose in God's stream and not from my own broken bucket (Jer 2:13). I want to bear fruit of God's Spirit, and provide shade to wanderers.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
In loving memory
Today is the 11th October 2012, and I am dragging myself through the week of normality, remembering back to times of heat, smells, crowds and rhythm in Uganda. Re-reading all my blog posts has not helped very much, as I remember the inner turmoil of daily poverty and the vivid reality of looking a brother or sister in the face and deciding what to do. I recall specific moments of interaction, and almost overflowing with love. I have not felt that since moving back from Uganda, and I pray to do so very soon. God - bring me people to know and love as dearly as those in Kampala!
It is cold in the UK - physically cold, but also relationally and spiritually cold. Investing in one person, trying to introduce them to Jesus seems a massive undertaking. In Africa it is easy - you see someone's abject poverty, give them a coin and a smile, and walk away immediately gratified knowing that you have done something small but meaningful. The greater issues of poverty are not confronted: holistic change through education, relief from corruption and the energy required by every community member to change habits. Poverty in Africa is hot, dusty, smelly, thorough and complicated.
Poverty in the UK is cold, bound by red-tape and equally complicated. As we all know, poverty here does not involve widespread homelessness, desperate illness and malnutrition (although increasingly it does involve these things), but fundamentally it centres around depression, loneliness and boredom. Oh, and spiritual deprivation, of course. The poverty is real, but people are less likely to ask for help or even recognise their own need.
The balance of life is not yet perfect - my time is divided up into the typical segments of work, home, church and 'other', but there is not yet a substantial portion allocated to 'social justice'. I moved to Nottingham to obey the call of God to return to Grace Church (which is wonderful, by the way) and get involved in social justice. My raison d'etre is still in the formative stage, and it is sometimes a little tedious waiting for the finished article of 'purpose' sown into each week-to-view of my diary.
Having said that, I have a great job with a Christian company committed to providing good, Biblical books to inspire and deepen faith. My excellent housemate and I have spent time getting to know the neighbours so as to share the Gospel over time. I am helping monthly with Street Pastors, and with a feeding programme and food bank in Nottingham. Some people are never happy!
God has kindly given me a book to help during this transitional time; 'This Ordinary Adventure', written by a couple who have lived all over the world as missionaries, and are now trying to 'settle' back into life in the United States. Their struggles, insight and reflections are precious. They sum up so much of what I feel, and I cannot wait to see how God brings them into a new, Western adventure that matters and satisfies them.
Moving to Uganda was tough, and living there was difficult and conjoured an impossible number of emotions and thoughts. Moving from Uganda was easy... until recently when I have begun to miss the urgency of life and people who became precious. Frontline boys, smiling men begging on the street, church friends, Oasis colleagues, neighbours.
Today to do (thanks to Heidi Baker):
It is cold in the UK - physically cold, but also relationally and spiritually cold. Investing in one person, trying to introduce them to Jesus seems a massive undertaking. In Africa it is easy - you see someone's abject poverty, give them a coin and a smile, and walk away immediately gratified knowing that you have done something small but meaningful. The greater issues of poverty are not confronted: holistic change through education, relief from corruption and the energy required by every community member to change habits. Poverty in Africa is hot, dusty, smelly, thorough and complicated.
Poverty in the UK is cold, bound by red-tape and equally complicated. As we all know, poverty here does not involve widespread homelessness, desperate illness and malnutrition (although increasingly it does involve these things), but fundamentally it centres around depression, loneliness and boredom. Oh, and spiritual deprivation, of course. The poverty is real, but people are less likely to ask for help or even recognise their own need.
The balance of life is not yet perfect - my time is divided up into the typical segments of work, home, church and 'other', but there is not yet a substantial portion allocated to 'social justice'. I moved to Nottingham to obey the call of God to return to Grace Church (which is wonderful, by the way) and get involved in social justice. My raison d'etre is still in the formative stage, and it is sometimes a little tedious waiting for the finished article of 'purpose' sown into each week-to-view of my diary.
Having said that, I have a great job with a Christian company committed to providing good, Biblical books to inspire and deepen faith. My excellent housemate and I have spent time getting to know the neighbours so as to share the Gospel over time. I am helping monthly with Street Pastors, and with a feeding programme and food bank in Nottingham. Some people are never happy!
God has kindly given me a book to help during this transitional time; 'This Ordinary Adventure', written by a couple who have lived all over the world as missionaries, and are now trying to 'settle' back into life in the United States. Their struggles, insight and reflections are precious. They sum up so much of what I feel, and I cannot wait to see how God brings them into a new, Western adventure that matters and satisfies them.
Moving to Uganda was tough, and living there was difficult and conjoured an impossible number of emotions and thoughts. Moving from Uganda was easy... until recently when I have begun to miss the urgency of life and people who became precious. Frontline boys, smiling men begging on the street, church friends, Oasis colleagues, neighbours.
Today to do (thanks to Heidi Baker):
- Make today a string of opportunities to serve people.
- Choose love in every conversation and encounter. Do not look for what I can get out of someone else but give them attention and kindness.
- Yield to God. Let go of my bad moods, tiredness and impatience and adopt God's love.
- KNOW and LOVE the poor in Nottingham. Learn from them and plan change around them.
- Surrender my money, time, future plans (of lack of), friendships, health and hope to God who knows the end from the beginning and will provide daily opportunities for 'good works', rewarding them with 'well done'.
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