Jesus Glasses

Two and a half years ago, our family found ourselves in a situation where we had 500 hand-made lunches and knew of no one to eat them. Knowing that there were, in fact, people who could be blessed by this food, we instituted a new policy; we would live each moment with our "Jesus glasses" on until the lunches were distributed. We would view our lives through the eyes of Christ. We would not go through the motions of life, but in each moment, we would be intentionally asking God, "What do you want me to see and experience here? Who needs me to show them Your love? Jesus, how would you respond here?" We saw the hand of God over that week in such a profound way, we dared to wonder what He would do in our lives if we kept those glasses on.

If you've been following our lives at all over the past 30 months, you have seen what a difference taking Christ's viewpoint has made.

Here, in Uganda, we are surrounded by poverty and pain that is unlike anything we could experience in the US. There are a million possible ways to "help", but often, what looks like help to us actually does more harm than good.

Discernment is more important than ever here, and often we can become immune or paralyzed from helping because we don't want to do it wrong.

Thus, the need for Jesus glasses. I cannot be led by my emotions or by the gravity of the situation. I can only be sure that what I am doing is right by following the will of God in each case. I need to constantly be checking myself against who I know my Savior to be. I spend my days getting to know my Father's voice so that in the moment of need, I can be sure that it is His voice that I hear above all else.

Many women come to us for help with a sick child, wanting some clothes for their children or really anything that we might be giving out. For this reason, Healing Faith makes it a point to NOT hand things out. Our goal is to be in relationship, to lead our friends to Christ, not to the next handout. We do, however, partner with Mercy for Mamas to get kits to pregnant mothers for a healthy, safe delivery. We do this often and it can become routine.

God was about to rock that routine though.

Halie became friends about 3 weeks ago with a young, pregnant girl, named Fauza. They walked together holding hands and talked each day. The first week, Fauza told us that she was new in Wakisi, and asked if we could hang a mosquito net in the home she was staying in.

The next week, with Halie by her side, she peeked her head around the corner of the school building to hesitantly ask for a Mama Kit and a baby kit (blanket, outfit, socks and hat for a newborn), I thought nothing much of it.We gave her the kits, prayed over her and her soon-to-be-born baby, and asked her to come see us after the baby was born so that we could rejoice with her.

We all sat down together to watch the kids playing soccer and jumping rope, when out of the blue, Fauza began to tell me her story. She said that she wouldn't be happy when her baby was born.

Okay, God. I am listening. Guide me. How are you calling me to act on Your behalf?

Fauza is 17 years old and has been in school most of her life. She is at Senior 2 level, but is on holiday right now. She speaks English well and is very smart. She had been living with her uncle, who also paid her school fees, but when she became pregnant, she was told to leave and to only come back when she no longer had a baby.

We talked about the choices that lay before her. We talked about her heart. This was not an easy situation. We talked about the gift of this child, but also about the aspects of being a young, single mother that are hard.

She shared that she wanted to keep her child, but she didn't know how she would provide milk or soap. Fauza had no idea about breast-feeding being sufficient for at least a year. I assured her that we could find a way for her to be able to provide soap for her and her child. We prayed that she would bond with this child and allow herself to love him or her. Mariam, a Healing Faith interpreter and I asked her to stay with the baby for at least the first few months to give the baby a strong, healthy start. We assured her that she wouldn't walk this path alone.

We left that day prayerful. There was no way of knowing where her heart truly was.

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The following week, we came to check on her, and the grandmother that she was living with said she had gone to a clinic to give birth. She left early the previous day, but no one had heard from her since.

Now, these are not woman who spend three days in a hospital recovering. These are woman who give birth alone on the floors of their homes and then get up and do the laundry. For her to be gone for 2 days was odd.

When we arrived at the clinic, she was 48 hours into intense labor with little if any sign of progress. The contractions brought her to tears every 3-5 minutes. She chewed on a root plant to keep the nausea away.

Again, we prayed and encouraged her. We walked with her between contractions, and we held her through them. We told her how strong she was and that she could do this. 

As hard as it was to see her in so much pain, what pained my heart the most was knowing that there was true risk here. The baby was not coming like it should. My silent prayer was for protection, health and a safe delivery for mom and baby. I prayed that God was not leading us into a season of grieving with this young girl. 

The following day, I expected to wake up to news of a birth. The update was that there was still no change. Day 3 of intense labor on the floor of a simple clinic. We continued in prayer knowing that things are done differently in Uganda than they would be in America. We were not called to barge in and fix things, we were called to walk alongside this young woman on her journey. And that is honestly the absolute hardest part of ministry.

We had checked in throughout the day, and finally that evening got a phone call that the clinic staff said Fauza needed a c-section. That meant a transfer from the village clinic to the hospital in town. A friend lent Fauza, still in intense labor, a phone to call us and tell us that she was standing on the side of the road in the village waiting for a boda (a motorcycle taxi) to bring her to the hospital. She wasn't asking for us to do anything, but the image of her traveling 30 minutes on a motorcycle after 3 days of labor was too much.

Dave, Mariam and I got in the van and went to get her. 

Once we arrived at the hospital, Dave and I needed to stay in the van because the prices for any services would skyrocket as soon as the color of our skin was seen. We are so thankful for Mariam and her strong, sure negotiating skills. For no charge, Fauza had a bed, would get an examination and would be where she needed to be if and when the doctor decided a c-section was imminent. 

The next morning, a phone call informed us that she had been dilated to 7 all night long, that the baby was handling labor well, and that the surgery was scheduled for later that day. 

Around 9pm the call finally came that the surgery was done, and a baby girl was here! Mom and baby were both doing great! The price for the surgery had been negotiated, so I was able to come visit. Finally!

Want your mind completely blown? I assured Fauza that we would cover all costs that she had to get her baby here. All of the medical care that she needed from the village clinic to the c-section to the hospital stay was under $30. UNDER $30! 

Holding this precious child was such an incredible answer to prayer!

So, the baby is here. We rejoice together. (Though Fauza is still holding a slight grudge against her daughter for causing her so many days of pain.) :-)

This week, as Fauza recovers physically, we celebrate what God has done, but we know that life continues to loom ahead of her.

We don't yet know where she will go when she leaves the hospital. We don't know how she will provide for her child, where her heart will be about returning to school or staying to care for her child, or what their future holds. 

So, we pray. We stay by her side and we walk with her through the process of making her decisions. We point her to her Heavenly Father and assure her that to do what is right, His is the voice that she needs to hear above all else. 

Continue to hold this little family in your prayers with us. 

Up to me or up to God?

November 28, 2014

When someone is in need, it is my instinct to step in. What God has been showing me though, is that sometimes, He wants to step in, and He is simply calling me to sit back and watch. Unfortunately, I am much less patient than He is, and sometimes, I move too quickly.

I wish that I only had one personal example of this to share. I wish, that I didn't rush ahead of God so often in life. But I am learning.

It is by making mistakes that we learn. 

When we know better, we do better.

I will share just one story with you today because it is a beautiful story of grace and redemption. Those are my favorite kinds of stories.

There is a wonderful woman who helps us around the house here, in Uganda. Sometimes she sorts and cooks the beans, sometimes she helps with cleaning. She is a hard-worker and a good friend. We attend Bible study together and a mid-week church service. She also manages the house that she lives in.

In theory, that means she is responsible for collecting rent from the 15+ tenants and getting it to the owner each month in exchange for free rent for her family.

Sounds like a great position, except:

·         The tenants only pay when they feel like it…and that is not on-time or often.
·         The owner is corrupt, demeaning and deceitful.
·         Uganda has a law that says you need to allow a tenant 3 months rent-free before you can evict them.
·         The owner doesn’t care about this law and expects my friend to break the law to evict them.

So, I have known that my friend’s job was stressful for her, and that others have advised her to get out of the position, but she had never asked me for advice, so we hadn’t talked about it much.

Until she came to me not asking for advice, but asking for money.

The owner had come banging on her door that morning demanding 500,000 Ugandan Shillings ($200 USD). He was threatening and screaming and told her that she had one hour to bring him the full amount.

By the time she had arrived at my gate, she was in tears and had exhausted all of her resources. A friend lent her a portion of the money, but now, here she was, asking if I could lend her the rest. Of course, she had hoped to collect rent from those refusing in order to pay both the friend and me back.

In my American mind, the 120 bucks that she needed was no skin off my back. It was an amount that I was willing to lose to help a friend. Even if she never got the rent, it wouldn’t have a negative impact on my life. Unfortunately, my focus was only on myself and how this affected me rather than thinking about how my “help” would affect my friend.

She is someone who makes about 100,000 shillings in a month. Her husband works 12 hour days, 7 days per week and makes just about the same. To her family, this is an extraordinary amount of money.

In the moment, in the emergency, in the tears, I gave her the money. She paid the owner and peace was restored…temporarily.

No sooner had I handed her the money than the error of my ways came to mind.

• What would my lending her an amount that she could never pay back do to her pride or to our relationship?

• How does my rescue empower her for the future?

• What could God do, or is He already trying to do to grow and prepare her? Who am I to interfere with that?

• What was going to happen next month? I know that the owner is deceitful. Who’s to say he won’t come demanding more next week?

• Did I really do any good or did I simply do what was easiest for me?

Within a few days, some rent was collected. She was able to pay me back half of what I lent her. I was impressed, but I also knew that God was calling me to do something more...and it had nothing to do with this month’s rent demand.

I asked if I could sit down with her and look at records she kept of rent paid and money demanded. She was happy to have input and to have someone listen to the cry of her heart.

For the past 3 years she had been functioning completely out of fear. She was worn down and worn out. She didn’t want to do this job any more, but whenever she tried to quit, the abuse from the owner would begin again. He told her she was stupid and that she owed him so much money that she could never leave. He showed her a figure of 4.8 million shillings that he said somehow she owed him.

I had very little idea how the system in Uganda worked, but what I did know was scary. Death threats, missing paperwork and false accusations are all too common if you end up on the wrong side of someone willing to bribe officials. I knew that I could not afford to risk my family’s safety, and I didn’t know if I truly had any help to offer her, but I trusted that God would provide what words I was lacking.  

In one afternoon we were able to do some math together and see that her rent had never actually been free and that he was demanding more money from her each month than was covered by the tenants rent. Because no one paid on a set schedule, she never added it all up and just gave him money as it came in.

The tears came as her greatest fear was realized. She felt as stupid as he had always said she was.

I know very little about business and finance, but I was able to speak truth into her life. I was able to encourage her and remind her that she was a beloved child of God and that His plan for her was not this life of fear.

I wanted so badly to march into that owner’s office and give him a piece of my mind. I was angry for the way that he had taken advantage of my friend for years. I was in fight mode.

But, this was not my fight.

You see, when we are called into a situation where someone needs help, more often than not, we are called to empower them to help themselves. I was not being asked to be a rescuer, a savior. I was called to point her to her Savior, the one who created her and promised to always give her strength. She had lost sight of how God sees her, and she needed to be reminded.

We talked about steps she could take to protect herself, to defend herself, and to get her out of this position. We made a plan, we role played some dialogue, and as her confidence grew, I saw the anger rise up in her. Not anger aimed at the owner, but anger that she had let her life get to this point. Anger that she had allowed someone to treat her this way for so long.

It was an emotion that convicted her heart and demanded a change.

Before she left, we prayed. We prayed hard for courage and strength. We prayed that the owner would by some miracle have a kind and compassionate heart. We prayed that he would allow her to quit.

I told her to call me after she met with the owner.

I didn’t hear from her for a few days. Each day I prayed that her courage would not waver as the days passed, but I feared that it would. I feared that she was too deep in this and that change was not possible.

I didn’t catch her before mid-week service, but when we got in the car to drive home, she said, “I have something to tell you, but I couldn’t do it over the phone.”  My heart sank.

Then, a smile stretched from one side of her face to the other as she told me all about how she walked into his office with confidence and told him that she was done with this work and that there was no way she would ever be able to repay the amount he was asking for and that she refused to try any longer. She told him that she had to borrow money to pay his demands and that she deserved to collect enough rent to pay back her debts.

She told me that she had never felt that strong in front of him. Usually, she just sat and listened and never said a word, but this time was different.

And you know what? The owner said he understood. He accepted her quitting, but he asked if she would continue just until he found someone new. He considered her debt erased and she was welcome to stay living in the house if she wanted to. She was to collect the money needed to pay back her debts to her friends and then, if he hadn’t found a replacement, bring any further rent to him. There would be no more demands.

She had no idea what to say. She had expected a fight.

God had other plans.

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And now, a week later, she laughs as she tells me that she thinks she walks differently, taller even. “Why do I feel that way?” she asks.

That is what power and confidence and pride feel like, I tell her. All foreign feelings to her.

She did it.

She did what she could and God did what she couldn’t.

She had read about prayers being answered. She believed that God could answer prayers.

Today though, today she lived it. God reached right down into her life and answered her prayer.

I love seeing everyday how this new found confidence is impacting her life. She paid back her other friend, and she has paid me back in full. She feels like she has a fresh start.

I am glad that I didn’t continue to try and “help” her out of this situation.

Helping can be done wrong in a million ways. Speaking truth, reminding someone of their worth, empowering them to want better and to do better for themselves: with these you simply can't go wrong.