Seeing the Aquarium in the Sludge

"Viste mi aquário?" ("Did you see my aquarium?")

She grinned as she leaned over the side of the platform and stared at the tiny fish swimming in the sludge that filtered its way under and around their house. Enamored.

She is a glass-half-full kinda gal.

My sandal snapped and the sludge oozed between my toes as I made my way up the planks to get to the box that she was calling home. It was worse than when I had been here during dry season six months ago, to be sure. She wasn't living in it at the time but now it was where they were sleeping every night. A single mom and her daughter. I could feel my chest tighten and I held back the tears.

"My sister is living like this," was all I could think.

It is unfair to call it a house really. More appropriately called a platform with slats. Sheets are strategically but futilely placed to cover the open window holes and the larger cracks between the wall boards. Mosquitoes and flies paid no attention as they swarmed right past.

Buckets of water sat in one corner and the single, tiny fan vibrated on the uneven floor where the kids piled on the single mattress to watch the hazy cartoon playing on the small TV screen.

Fortunately it wasn't raining because the water nearly flooded the wooden platform each time it did, lifting mosquitoes and raw sewage to closer proximity.

"When it rains, I don't sleep," she told us. "I'm too scared it will flood." It's rainy season. Little sleep.

No locks.
No screen to cover the windows.
No bathroom.
No kitchen.

Not ok.

"Jesus. She is one of our own. Help us help her."

Pricila sat at the plastic table and I could tell she was a little more calloused now. She has been with us for nearly three years at The Donut Company and in that time she has been on quite the roller coaster ride of housing needs and custody battles for her older daughter. To say that women like her are taken advantage of by landlords and the social system would be quite the understatement. So while her living conditions are now far below safe or ideal, after much conversation and council, she felt it better for her to live in a box with no bathroom or running water than to continue to spend half her paycheck paying rent for a puny room with a verbally abusive landlord. That should tell us something.

But if she ever hopes to get custody of her older daughter back from her abusive ex-husband, who is now under a restraining order, she couldn't possibly do so in these conditions.

Stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place. Again.

Bea and Sam specifically have walked with her through some deep valleys and while she has grown in many ways, there is a certain hardening that takes place when life's injustices keep showing up at your dilapidated from step.

For as determined as she is, she is equally tired.

We helped her purchase this piece of property almost a year ago, though she has only lived in it for about a month, and more confusion ensued when the previous owner tried to take it away. She won that battle but the war is far from over.

Richard walked the perimeter of the house. This was his first time seeing the house in person and he echoed the thoughts of us all: this is not good.

The house is old and built where raw sewage and rain run off from the adjoining neighborhoods, a breeding ground for disease and mosquitoes. We repressed our American savior mode as quickly as it crept its sneaky way to the front of our minds. The initial thoughts of "she can't live here" and "we will find her a better place" were settled and replaced with "what can we do now with what's been given?"

The reality is, the vast majority of the world lives in similar or worse circumstances and as much as our instinct would tell us to leave this and find better, we realize that is not sustainable. It's not a long term solution. It's a knee-jerk reaction of the privileged (us) that most often does more harm than good. (Sound strange? Tell me about it. But if there is one thing experience has taught us it's there is not always an easy, quick fix to poverty's very real battles and most of the time Jesus is found right in the sludge and slime if we swallow our pride long enough to find Him.)

Now we see potential in the midst of problem. Fish in the midst of sludge. Just like little K.

So Richard grabbed the sketch pad and started doing what he does best: trouble-shooting and creating a plan of attack.

We now have a plan in place to rebuild Pricila's house. To give it new life. To give her new hope after years of struggle. It's a multi-step process that will no doubt be delayed by the rainy season upon us, but it's doable.

Jhon and a few guys were already able to build her a walkway to her door so that she no longer has to carry K through the sludge when she takes her to school, goes to work, or gets water. First immediate need met.

The neighbor has graciously allowed her to use their bathroom for the time being, but we have team arriving next week that plans to build her a bathroom before heading to Benjamin to help build Joice's house. Second need tentatively met (pray for no rain that day).

Our ultimate goal it disassemble the house entirely, keep the structural pieces that are still sound, lift the foundation of the house, create a gutter system that will help drain the standing water, and rebuild the home to be secure and enclosed.

We project the cost of this project from start to finish at $5,000US.

We are already praying for the Lord to bring us a team.

"Aren't there locals to do the work?" you ask. Great question. The simple answer is no. We asked. We've searched. We've had five years of experience to tell us that in this situation, it is more cost effective and timely to get a team to come down and do the work. Of course, our family on the ground will help, too. But we also value the Body coming together to serve in this way.

Will you pray about giving to this need? Would you be interested in coming down to help physically make this happen? We are thinking March/April 2019 after rainy season tapers off.

If you would like to give, here is the link: www.theamazonnetwork.com/give

Let's put action to our words and love our sister well.

We believe this will do more than provide a safe, clean home (though that's incredibly important). This will also open the door for Pricila to finally get custody of her older daughter, who is in a very vulnerable situation with the father.

Pray. Give. Join us.

Behind the Picket Fence

She stood there, cautiously baring her heart to me. Her words said to me that she thought I had it together. She thinks I know what the heck I’m doing every day when I wake up and all the things from near and far are calling my name. 

Instantly my mind went back to a few days ago when I found myself weeping uncontrollably under the covers and pillows on my bed, my bedroom door locked to the demands of my kids, and my heart physically aching in my chest because I miss my jungle family so much and the loneliness is sometimes too much for me to stand under, so I cave. 

Turns out, I’m human like the rest of ‘em.

My house has a white picket fence. It’s quintessential irony calls to me every day when I check the mail or take out the trash or mow the lawn in the monotonous day to day. 

I gave this all up once, you know. Willingly. Joyfully. I turned it all in for a life overseas. All that I had been called to became my reality. 

And then Jesus said, suddenly and unexpectedly, it was time to sacrifice a different way. 

It was the harder to say yes that time. 

Now I find myself at Walmart and still, two years back on this side of the border, I fight another anxiety attack because the aisles seem so long and toilet paper options seem like a task of decision making prowess that I’m just not equipped for. 

But those are not the photos we put on social media are they? Of our struggle to reconcile broken dreams with the beautiful life given. Of not being able to relate or not being understood because suddenly you are thousands of miles from everyone who knows you best. 

I never post an instastory of me losing it with my daughter because the lies seem insurmountable and never ending and five years into this confusing and refining role of adoptive mom to a child with a hurtful past, I still feel as lost as ever many (most?) days. And there are harsh words and apologies and lies followed by truth revealed and lessons learned for both of us. Tears and hugs and another step forward after two steps back. 

It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do to face myself in this mirror of adoption. And it’s a lonely road when others just don’t get it. 

And I have never snapped a selfie when I’m crying on the bathroom floor, shoulders slumped because I feel so inadequate and useless under the weight of raising awareness for the many tangible needs of our jungle family. I struggle to find the balance of here-meets-there, where kids are being abused on every corner and we need funds to reach them but also laundry is piling up and my own kids need me to teach them math and reading and how to tie their shoes.

These just scratch the surface of the social-media “non-worthy” items. 

All the while Jesus whispers to me every day, “Cease from striving.” I can almost hear it as though it were an audible voice calling to me. 

And I don’t know yet what it looks like to live that out. 

So I wake up early and lean in hard. I physically open my hands, achy heart and shaky knees, and ask Jesus to show me He is real here, too, in what feels like lonely loss. He wasn’t only real back when I thought I knew His plans for my life. My preconceived and naive ideas of who He is and what He has called me to isn’t enough. He is bigger and better and His ways are true and good. 

My calling is not to know all the things. It is to trust Him. To look to Him alone.

Even when I feel lost and inadequate. Even when I see another Facebook post that reminds me I’m here and not there or this way and not that. 

I shut out the voices that can't see my heart and I trust the One who can.

It still leaves me breathless in tears many days. It’s ok to grieve what was lost (or perhaps just reassigned). 

Most days, I choose to run back into hope and gratefulness. And you see it. 

Other days, I collapse in sadness, fear, doubt. And you don’t. 

So when I post a photo on Instagram and it appears that I’m living a perfect life, remember it’s my highlight reel. There is a behind the scenes, too.

But instead of focusing on all that feels taken, I focus on what is given. 

Rather than honing in on what makes my heart ache inside my chest, I hone in on what makes my soul glad. 

In place of what appears to have been lost, I look for what I know to be found. 

Because wouldn’t you know it, that adorable white picket fence doesn’t close properly. You have to lift it up and pull it ever so particularly for it to shut all the way. Life’s like that, too. No matter what it may look like on the outside, it’s always harder and more finicky than you think it should be. 

Don’t believe the lie that says anyone has it all together. They don’t. You don’t. I don’t. We are all just humans with struggles. 

And really, if you think about it, that’s good news... because it is precisely why we all need Jesus.

{Don't} Be Careful

We recently invited a young hippie couple to live with us for an undefined period of time.

We met them randomly about two months ago when they were walking down the street to sell their artisans. Our friend and ministry partner saw them with their awesome instruments {and awesome hair!} and said it would be cool to hear them play some music. “Invite them in!” I said.

That led to donuts which led to a few dreadlocks for me and some friends which led to inviting them to our big Thanksgiving bash which led to us asking God to allow us more and more opportunities to speak Truth and Love into their lives which led to us finding out they’d be homeless mid-December which led to “I know exactly what you are up to here, God.... and that is {once again} taking things further than I expected which led to “We’d love to have you in our home... and yes, even your cat."

And I do not like cats.

So here we are and here they are and wow.

And you know what?

They’re really awesome people. We played Monopoly the other night and it was a blast. She can play the “melodica” like a beast and you should see the jewelry he makes. Our kids love them and invite them to play and we spent Christmas and New Years day together because we are all strangers in this jungle town and “we’re each other’s family this year”. We eat together and have had many conversations about life and living and God and Christ and what it means to love and forgive. We’ve shared our struggles {current and past} and we’ve laughed and had frustrations {like when their cat tried to kill our duckling...what is my life??}. He talked for two hours about God and being rejected by “the church” and we shared our stories and what community and the Body of Christ really looks like in the day to day.

Mostly, we don’t tell other Christians we have them in our home. Why? Because it’s the same response.

“Be careful.”

I don’t really know where this idea came from of “being careful”. I can’t seem to find it in Scripture. In fact, what I see in Scripture is the exact opposite. I see people doing crazy extreme things in the name of Christ. I see people living in community and opening their doors and their refrigerators and their closets and their hearts and saying, “There is Love here. And you are welcome here. Exactly as you are.”

But it’s uncomfortable to invite them in. We’d rather preach to them with our words at an outreach one day than with our lives in our own four walls in the every day. We don’t want to do life together. We want to change them. All the while forgetting that we were never—never EVER—called to change anyone. We were called to love. The Holy Spirit does the changing.

And for some reason we are afraid to love whole-heartedly, unconditionally, just as they are. It’s almost like we think it’s the weak thing to do. We need them to see that they are SINNERS! Going to Hell!

But we forget that they are DEAD in their sins. Dead men can’t see. So in our lame attempt to put glasses on them and hand them a Bible, we don’t notice that their hands and hearts are cold because there is no life in them. They CAN’T see no matter how hard we tell them to open their eyes. It’s going to take nothing less than the Holy Spirit giving them sight and giving them life.

Our role in it all is love. {Remember the two greatest commandments?} And here is what Scripture says love looks like:

Love is patient,

love is kind.

Love does not envy,

is not boastful,

is not conceited,

does not act improperly,

is not selfish,

is not provoked,

and does not keep a record of wrongs.

Love finds no joy in unrighteousness

but rejoices in the truth.

It bears all things, believes all things,

hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends.

It doesn’t say that love is safe or easy or careful or comfortable. It doesn’t describe it as something conditional or something that eventually runs out. It doesn’t say that love tells people what to do or points out all their flaws so that they can get better. Love goes against every human instinct we have because often it just. doesn’t. make. any. sense. y’all.

I know what you’re thinking...of COURSE there is wisdom to be had as well. Some would say it’s not wise to have people in your home like this. But I’d say those people are confusing wisdom with carefulness. (See James 3.17-18 for Biblical definition of wisdom... hint: it doesn’t say anything about being careful.) 

Carefulness says that when they smoke pot one rainy night in your backyard, that you kick them out and deem them untrustworthy. Wisdom says you let them know that is not ok here but that you love them and forgive them. Carefulness says that they may bring with them demonic activity so it’s best to protect your family from that. Wisdom says that you address their spiritualism with Love and Truth {knowing that He that is in you is greater}, covering your home and children in prayer, not fearing the enemy.

We are so very thankful for our community at The Common Thread that encourages us from afar in this journey. They speak Truth into our lives and set an example for unconditional love, self-sacrifice, and humility with open doors and pouring out and dreaming big. When we tell them things like us taking in a hippie couple, their response is, “We’re going to pray with you in this. Here is some of our experience in the past. Let us share with you some wisdom we’ve learned over time. What are their names so we can pray specifically? Keep us posted.”

Doesn’t that sound a lot more like a body of Christ followers, passionate for our neighbors, than, “Be careful!”

I think about it and I wonder what type of impact we would have as the Body if we truly died to our comforts and fears. Instead of seeing people as souls to be saved, we saw them as individuals to love. Jesus will do the saving. He promises He will in His time to those who believe. It’s just not our job {By the way, that was a good call. We can’t even get the basics down, much less save souls!}

If our lives looked more like Love and Hope and less like condemnation and judgment (like Jesus commands), we’d actually be really surprised at the rich relationships we build and the incredible opportunities He gives us to speak His name to people so different from us... and yet so, so much like us.

So let’s stop being “careful” and start loving people where they are, how they are, just like Christ loved us. Let’s bring them in and let them know that we are with them and Christ died for them and there is Hope and Truth in this world. That we were once lost and broken, too.

And let’s all be thankful that God wasn’t “careful” about loving us.

The Futility of Busyness {and the richness of waiting}

a reflection of three years living and loving overseas

When I close my eyes and {try to} imagine Christ, for some reason I never picture Him up and running around, busy. I picture a peaceful calm. Yet at the same time I know He is constantly at work among us, through us, in us.

When I open my eyes, however, and see my life, so often all I see is busyness and rush. A hectic race of back and forth.

Nothing like my Father. 

If there is one thing God has taught me these last few years, it’s that He is not in a hurry.
(And let’s be honest, that is tough news to an American!)

We have plans and dreams and schemes and hopes all laced with goals and timelines and to-do lists to make those happen.

But God? He has all the time in eternity and He’s not afraid to use it.

We pace the floor, glancing at the imaginary clock wondering when all of these things will come to pass. And all it does is create in us a dissatisfaction with where we are, who we are, what we have.

All the while, God moves and breathes life, methodically and timely.

We huff and puff, missing the whole point of it all—Him.

But that’s too simple, to walk towards Him in humble submission.

We want results. Numbers.

I don’t suppose I’ve attended a single “church service” in my life that didn’t put a varying degree of emphasis on a number. This many in attendance, this many confessions, this many baptisms, this many new churches, this many Bibles given, this many “souls saved”, this much money donated.

Numbers. Goals achieved. 

And so we say that, yes, these numbers represent souls and lives changed. But ever so slowly {and mostly with no recognition at all} we fail to realize that, while these do represent souls, those souls have quickly faded from our focus. Because we are off to the next number goal.

Last year we had 100. This year we want to see 200.

Last year they gave $1,000. This year we want $10,000.

Numbers. Objectives. 

But why do we care about "how many" and "how much"? Because time is short... right? Some would say because Jesus is coming soon. Some would put up the counting clock that shows how many souls are dying and going to hell this VERY moment and what are we DOING if we aren’t counting “souls for the Kingdom”?

We’re living. That’s what we are doing. We are loving our neighbor. We are confessing our sins to one another. We are praying for healing. We are giving and serving. We are poured out and broken.

And yes we are even longing for that Day. But we are living this day in all of its holiness, too.

And when we recognize that God is sovereign and His plans cannot be thwarted, suddenly we don’t feel so glorified in our busyness. Because it’s that same lie that the busier we are, the more productive we are that leads us to neglect our children and our marriage and our neighbor in pursuit of the goal. It leads us to shout judgment and rules rather than hope and love.

Because when we are rushed, there is no time for love. Because love takes time.

Love is patient. Love is willing to endure rejection, hatred, failure, backlash. Because love has all the time in the world. Love never fails.

Rush says we need to see repentance now. It’s now or never.

Love says God is in control of the outcome.

Rush says the bigger the crowd, the better.

Love says this one sufficient.

Rush says goals must be met.

Love says goals are good but not ultimate.

Rush says there is no time to sit still, there is work to be done.

Love says we’ll stay as long as we need to.

So often we confuse waiting and stillness with laziness. But we neglect to realize that it’s often busyness that creates laziness. For what else do we want to do after a busy day but sit on a couch and let our “brains rest” in front of the television? What is a better excuse for a little more time on social media that a long day of working hard? We deserve it, right?

But when we create a habit of waiting and watching, suddenly our time is consumed with things that matter. More time with our Savior. More time to pray for healing. More time to listen. More time to sit. More time to hear. More time to see.

More time to truly feel the groaning of the world around us in need of a Savior. Our Savior.

More time to taste and see that He is good.

No longer do we need to shout from the rooftops our expansive knowledge of spiritual things. Our lives speak loudly enough.

No longer do we need to organize and plan bigger and better activities to win people over. Our lives are speaking Truth from which the Holy Spirit will win people over.

When we moved to the Jungle three years ago, we had plenty of plans and goals.

Not one of them came to pass as we had thought. Not a single one.

But when we found ourselves at the end of so many dreams, we found God was moving all around us the whole time. Turns out He didn’t need us after all.

And then we slowed down and we could hear it for once.

“Come.”

And it was scary at first because there wasn’t a plan laid out in that one word. He didn’t say where or how or when or even what the outcome would be. He just said, “Come.”

So with feeble hands and weak knees, we stepped out of what we thought was the way things had to be done and we decided to just trust His timing. To take it one step, one day, on moment at a time. We would just live life with these people and trust that He would do the rest.

And oh what we have seen Him do!

This doesn’t mean that it isn’t hard work. Again, waiting doesn’t mean sitting idly by. We’ve worked harder and cried longer and wanted to give up countless times these last three years. But there in the quiet we still hear His voice whispering, “Come.”

His Spirit strengthens us again and we walk with the broken and speak into their lives and show them a better way with all of our insufficiencies and weaknesses in full light and at the end of the day all that can be said is, “Wow. Look at what a God we serve. LOOK at what He is doing!”

So three years into this thing, I’m {not so} sorry to report that I don’t have any numbers for you... I haven’t been counting. But if you want to sit for a while I can tell you some truly incredible things that God is doing in and around us.

None of it was our plan. None of it fit into our schedules and timelines.

But all of it—every last detail—fit perfectly into His.