Africa’s Child

It seems that the biggest lesson that I have learned over the past two years in Zambia is that relationship is key for anything of lasting value. This may sound very elementary to many, but it is one of the most profound truths in all of life. I have often said that the way to judge the success of a man is not to look at his resources but to look at his relationships. I would much rather be a man living in material poverty but be rich in my relationships.

That said, I have marveled at just how much life is not about what you know, but who you know. This flies in the face of western culture that determines a mans success through what accomplishments he has done. There seems to almost be a kind of aversion to the whole idea.

In Zambia, because of my relationships I am able to navigate much government red tape and save tons of time and frustration because of my numerous friends in many government offices. There are the letter of the law people who will immediately scream UNFAIR! Now just so you don’t think I am alright with breaking laws or doing anything illegal, I would not want any part of that kind of “help.” That kind of “help” is dishonest and brings into question many ethical things about myself, the organization I work for and most seriously, paint a bad picture of my God. What I am talking about is the kind of help that, because of relationship, people are willing to go above and beyond to see that your needs are cared for. I can still here some of you still whispering; not fair.

I have never met a person who demanded a ticket when the officer was willing to give grace. I hope you get my point. This is pure and simple about REAL relationships with people and not for utilitarian purposes either. When I read the bible I see in numerous places that Christians are to live in such a way that there should be no unmet needs within the fellowship of believers. Acts chapter two seems to drive that point home. We are all interdependent on each other and it is by God’s design that we live in unity and community with other believers. This is all about relationship. The most stark example of “it’s not what you know, but about who you know” would be our salvation as Christians is totally dependent on this. A relationship with Jesus will be the only thing to separate us from eternal life or eternal suffering………RELATIONSHIP IS WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT. (Sorry Hokey Pokey fans)

As I walked into the compound (a large grouping of housing mostly of very impoverished people) with our summer interns and my good friend Juden who is a Zambian pastor, we chatted about the issue we were going to be confronting and the interns, all young ladies on their first trip to Africa, many first trip away to anywhere foreign, were lively and excited to play with children in the streets and meet new people. It was the second day of going into these neighborhoods and there was a sense on anticipation. That was end end very quickly.

Before we were going to do our regular program of visiting and meeting people, Juden and myself wanted to visit a woman who is one of our housekeepers at the Africa’s Child Mission house. The issue we were going to attend to was that this woman (her name is omitted for her privacy and protection) was dealing with a big problem. While she was out of town a couple weeks ago, her 12 year old son had gone to a place called a “seclusion camp.” This is a place where traditionally one of the tribes here in Zambia would take the boys of the tribe once they were in their teens and perform circumcision and other “rituals” to prepare the boy to be a man. Once in this camp the boys are kept for these rituals and “secret” teaching for six months. For many years this practice was only practiced among this one tribe. With the modernization of Zambia, inter-marriage among the tribes and movement from a rural based society to a more urbanized populous, this tradition has started to include others.

The way it works, as a quick overview, costumed dancers with masks on run through the compounds looking for money and food that people give to them. The masked dancers carry a whip that they sometimes use as intimidation. The children are scared of these dancers but at the same time love to watch them and run away from them. Once a boy is sent to the seclusion camp, the dancers come to the homes of the boy’s and demand food and money. The parents of the boys are required to give a large sum of money and weekly food offerings. At the camp, the boys are exposed to pagan rituals and witchcraft. The practice while being pretty evil, has turned also into a lucrative business.

The issue was that this woman did not give consent for her child to go to the “camp” and as a Christian woman was horrified to have her son there. She also felt helpless to do anything. My friend Juden wanted her to know that Zambian law was on her side as well as the Zambian constitution. As we approached this woman’s house we noticed the masked dancers coming towards us. They came upon us asking for money. As we stood there the our housekeeper came to us with a look of desperation and fear on her face. Later we learned that these costumed men had been coming around her house since six that morning as they had been doing for days, trying to intimidate her to pay them and supply food. One of the masked men stooped in the dirt and with his finger wrote “want money soon!” and then we walked away. The young ladies with us were quite intimidated by this and the dancers presence around us as were the huge group of children that huddled around as as if our being white was a protection from these guys. Now there was never a moment that I felt there was even the remotest physical danger for anyone in our group or I would have left the scene quickly as the well being of the interns is a huge priority for me.

Our group moved to our woman friend’s house where we Juden and myself went into the house so Juden could speak to her in private. A neighbor woman also came into the house. After Juden explained that she had the law on her side and that the police should help her retrieve her son, this lady said that was what she wanted. At that point the neighbor woman piped up and told her that she couldn’t get her son and that the tradition is stronger than the law. She went on to explain that even if she did get her son back, that he would go mad and die because of the rituals he had gone through. Juden explained that our God is bigger than any tradition, spell, curse or witchcraft. Then the woman of the house spoke and through her tears said that even if my son dies, she wouldn’t leave him in that place and would be true to her God.

After the meeting Juden went with our housekeeper and a few other pastors from the area and traveled to the police. Our housekeeper is not the first parent to face this, but this frail little single mother of four is the first one in this area to stand up to this. The repercussions to this are huge. This could crack the wall of fear and intimidation that these men have been using to make money and spread this evil practice. No doubt that this could give hope to others to stand up against pagan traditional practices.

When we look at this from a basic level, it is the makings of a great story that we love to hear; the helpless victim stands against injustice and inspires courage of others and defeats the “evil” aggressor. A David vs. Goliath story for today. The reason this story is great is because we all wish that we could have the courage and the faith to stand up to the culture that is destroying so many.

If this little frail single mother of four, HIV+, illiterate, poor and timid woman can stand up against 100′s, if not 1000′s of years of cultural tradition, where is our voice in an age where human trafficking is selling men, woman and children into slavery at a greater level than at the height of the slave trade? Where is our voice as the government legislates immorality as normal and protected behavior? Where is our voice when orphans suffer in silence? Where is our voice?

“Open your mouth for those who have no voice and for the rights of the oppressed. Speak up and judge fairly and defend the rights of the afflicted and needy.” – Proverbs 31:8-9

*As of this entry, we are waiting to see if the police are really going to act. It is Saturday and the police said they would go get the boy on Monday.” Will let you know……..

Sometimes we are quick to panic in seemingly desperate or scary situations that come into our lives. I am guilty of this way too often.

A few days ago my “twins” Katriya and Isaiah decided it would be a fun game to chase the neighbor children around with a needle from a syringe. The good ting that it was at least an unused one. There was much excitement on all the children’s parts as they ran away from my needle wielding twins. My daughter Christianna went out to see what was happening just in time to see one of the little neighbor girls get a prick in the finger from the needle.

Christianna went at once to take the needle away as she saw the danger in the situation. She took the needle from the children and went in to find Christa to report what was happening to her. Once inside, Christianna tried to relate to her mother what was going on. While telling the story, Chrstianna accidentally pricked her finger with the same needle that the neighbor girl pricked her finger with.

This all happened while I was away dealing with the adoption of friends. Christa immediately went next door to find an adult to ask about the HIV status of the girl in question. She found no adults. Here in Zambia, the rate of HIV is very high, even among children. Needless to say, Christa was a bit unsettled.

Another day went by until I was able to connect with our neighbor who informed me that she didn’t know anything about the little girl who was pricked by the needle accept where she lived.

I went to the house of the little girl, named Florida (pronounced Floor-ee-da) and met her father, Peter. I introduced myself and explained the situation. Peter had not known anything about the situation. I then had to ask about the HIV status of Florida. He said that no one in his family was positive. I thanked him for his time and returned home. I flt some relief as I had anxiety over the situation as I wondered if Christianna had been HIV exposed.

When I told Christa the news, she asked if I asked the father if we could test Florida for HIV. “Well, no” I replied. Then I was hit with the fact that most people her hide their status due to stigma and especially if their children are positive. I dreaded going back over and asking if we could test Florida.

Fortunately Peter was very understanding and said he would be over with his daughter as soon as she returned home. A couple hours later Peter and his wife came over with their daughter. We invited them in and Christa switched to “doctor” mode and explained the situation from a medical standpoint. After all was explained and understood, Christa administered the test to Florida and we waited for the results.

During the visit, we got a great chance to meet our neighbors that have lived just across a small field from us for two years, but we never had a chance to meet. It turns out that they are involved in a cult that is well known world wide. They were open to share their lives and we were privileged to make a good connection. It was such a blessing to meet this family and totally feel like this was a divine appointment.

We had come to Zambia to share the truth of who we were in light of the Bible and now we were able to do so with this great family, or at least have an in, all because of a prick!

Only the God of the universe can use bleak and scary situations to bless and to save! My faith is so small. I get nervous, anxious, frustrated, angry in situations instead of stopping long enough to look for the hand of God and realize that in all things He is in control. I am a slow learner, but I am hoping that I will learn from the prick.

Oh yeah, Florida tested negative. We praise God for both Florida and the “prick” that introduced us to our neighbors and opened the door for us to enter into their lives. God is Good.

Thank you God for the pricks in our lives, in whatever form they take……….

With excitement, we spent the last four days with Len and Mary Jo Rosenberg from Ministry Architecture. They were here to see our 42 acre campus and meet with us on designing buildings for our ministry center. It was a wonderful time with a couple of amazing people! When we left for Zambia with only a vision and desire to care for orphans and vulnerable children. Over the past 2 1/2 years we have seen God put one thing into place after another as we serve here. With the visit of the Rosenberg the vision we came with seems to almost be within sight!

The experience in Zambia has so far been an example to me that it’s not important if we feel qualified or able to do what God asks to do, because if He is asking us to do it, He has it all planned out already. I felt very much like Moses when I was entrusted with the vision for Africa’s Child. I can understand Moses telling God that He had the wrong man with the wrong gifts and abilities to accomplish what God was asking. I felt and still at times do still feel that I am the wrong guy to carry out this. But like Moses, I am slowly learning that what God asks us to do has very little to do with my abilities and everything to do with God’s power to do what He wants.

The blessing of being a part of Africa’s Child is one of the greatest experiences in my life. I am so excited that God picked the “wrong” guy! What has God asked of you but you feel like the wrong person? Join the club…………

“Fear is the thief of dreams and destroyer of destiny.”

When we left the US for Zambia, we went from making ends meet in the “Middle Class” to the “Very Wealthy” overnight. This was not something that we gave much thought to as from our perspective, we live on a tight budget, depend totally on others to be faithful with their commitment and on new giving so we can survive here. That said, our budget is more than 65 times greater than more than 95% of those in our community. This is not a hidden fact. Even though we try to live modestly and not flashy at all, we still represent a level of affluence that almost everyone I meet here will never know. This puts us in a very awkward position. We are the “money” people here and everyone knows that.

As much as I want to blend in as much as possible, my skin color, level of education and access to resources make it hard to blend. Because of our “wealth” here, there is a steady stream of people in need that come to our door for help with a variety of different needs, but it all boils down to the fact that they want money. Now it looks very disingenuous to turn people away and say that “I can’t help you.” So what to do? This question has plagued many in our position for a long time. To give or not to give? What do we do?

A look at the bible and we see that Jesus was very serious about helping those in need. A look at the poor and we see a culture of dependency that keeps them poor. A look at our “stuff” and we want to protect our things. The great struggle begins. I have to admit, it is a fight to see each new person that comes and asks for money through new eyes instead of grouping them all into the beggar category. If I had nothing and was watching my loved ones go hungry and had no education or access to resources, where would I turn? Yeah, to the person who has come to “help” us and obviously has money.

The problem with extreme poverty in a country with almost 90% unemployment is that there are no easy answers. An honest assessment of our own country shows that a welfare state breeds dependence, corruption and greater poverty. Even though the poor in the US are considered very rich by most of the world, the statistics show that those on welfare rarely break the cycle of dependence and poverty. The last thing I want to be here is another form of welfare. ( I am not trying to say welfare is evil or bad in its concept and I do think it is the responsibility of a society to help those who find themselves in desperate situations. I do think that the system is very broken and abused.) So if I do not want to make the problems of people worse, what should I do when the same people keep coming back with different stories of why they need money?

The answer that I have come up with is to always give something unless the facts don’t add up. What I mean by this is that I will give to anyone in real need and that I am not the judge just a servant of the Judge. When I had the awesome privilege to wear a police uniform and serve the people in my community, my Field Training Officer (FTO) gave me some advice that has helped me to this day. He told me it was not my job to prove people wrong, but to prove them right. Regardless if you are out to prove someone guilty or innocent, the facts will come out the same. The real difference is in how we treat the people getting to the truth. I want to be someone who is a giver of dignity and kindness not a skeptical person who is always looking for the worst in people.

All that to say that when it’s all said and done, I want to be known as someone who helps even when it is hard and inconvenient. I want to use wisdom in what I do to help, but am I going to err is it on the side of grace or caution?

“As much as you did it to the least person so you have done it unto me.”-Jesus

Jessica

There are different times in everyone’s life when you experience something that alters your thinking, feelings and actions. Some words to describe this are “paradigm shift” or “epiphany” or “life changing.” In the experiences I have had over the past couple weeks, these words can only capture a slice of the depth of where my heart has journeyed.
Two weeks ago we started off our adventure by bus to Livingstone which is a three hour bus ride. Catching the bus itself is a blog worthy entry, but maybe for a different time. Along with our wonderful friend Megan DeYoung, who was flying out on Wednesday, we were going to see the touristy side of Zambia. We booked a nice lodge with a pool and more importantly, air conditioning! The temp over the past two weeks in Livingstone has hovered between 95-100. That is hot! Five kids on a charter bus over dirt roads is an experience. Once we arrived, we hit the pool and began a bit of R n R. The reason we had to take the bus was that our vehicle was still in the shop. To our surprise, the mechanic called us shortly after we arrived in Livingstone to say our vehicle was ready. We were expecting it to take another couple weeks. It was a huge blessing! Having our Land Cruiser back allowed us to go on a game drive and to the falls a couple times and just made life a whole lot simpler.
During the course of the week I went out one evening as I love to just walk in town and meet people and use my gift of encouragement to bless others. I have talked about street ministry in Livingstone in other blog posts. For me this kind of “meet people where they are at” spontaneous ministry charges me up and gets me re-energized to go on. So after every one was in bed, I headed out to downtown Livingstone. Livingstone is the third biggest city in Zambia. The day life and night life are two different worlds. By day it is ruled by the tourist and commercial industries, by night it becomes a world that few tourists and even fewer missionaries and relief workers from the West ever become a part of. The energy and atmosphere of the town at night is mysterious and unfamiliar, yet I feel compelled to soak in the sights and sounds of this “other” world. While security could be an issue, I am very aware of my surroundings, and the fact I am carrying a Taser helps give me a false sense of invulnerability. So into the night I headed.
On this night, I was walking through downtown on the main street when I saw a guy who looked familiar to me. Then it dawned on me that it was a guy I met briefly back in 2005 when I was there. I said hi to him and told him that I had met him back in 05 and asked if his name was Bingy. He was freaked out and said that he did remember me and told me his name was Binga. Wow, pretty good mind I still have! We talked and visited for the next 45 minutes. He was at work at the time. His job is being a bouncer at a local pub/grill and night club. Binga is a very solid strong man. That night I also met his fellow bouncers that he worked with. The guys names are Kebby, Peter and Animal. They are all very strong, very large men. In short, I hit it off with all of them right away. They invited me back again and I said I would try.
Things worked out that I was able to return to hang out with them a few more times over the next week. They wanted me to “work” with them. So I dressed up in jeans, a black t-shirt and my police boots and stood at the door as the first white guy to be a “part” of the bouncer team. I found it quite humorous to be a small white guy “working” the door with these huge black men. During my time just standing with them, I was allowed to enter their world. It is not a world that I am accustomed to. There was an instant acceptance of me into their little band of brothers. So I felt a small sense of security in that.
As I watched people come in and out I started getting an education from both my new friends and my observations as I asked questions. I was told that over 90% of the ladies in this place were commercial sex workers. I was blown away. These girls looked nothing like the “hookers” in the States. For the most part they looked like the girl next door. Because I was the only white guy in the place and the fact I was dressed like and was standing with the bouncers, a good number of these ladies came and talked to me to ask me who I was. This is where the Good Lord grabbed my heart and did surgery on it.
These working girls are known to the men there as female dogs (“Bs”). The discussion with the guys was being told that “This “B” and that “B” is this much” and other very degrading words. When I took the time to ask these women their names, where they are from, about their families and what their dreams were, a different picture altogether arose. I also saw that by talking to them as humans I was able to give back a small slice their dignity. I fought back tears a number of times as I heard these girl’s stories. These were not drug addicted, hard women, but ladies who needed to feed their children or put a roof over their head. They had no “pimp” except poverty. Each one of these precious girls was made in God’s image and have value that far exceeds any earthly value. All I could picture in the back of my mind was the story Jesus told about the wedding feast in which those who were invited never showed so the master sent the servants out into the streets to bring in those living in the streets. I was also reminded of when Jesus was accused of being a friend of drunkards and prostitutes. My heart was breaking for these girls. The thought that knocked the breath right out of me is that each one of these girls is someone’s baby daughter.
I was able to talk with Mimi, Jessica, Sarah and Sandra to name a few of them. It was so incredible to me how just a genuine act of taking time to talk and show kindness and encouragement opened up the ability to have deeper discussions about life and eternity. As I stood in this night club, I was able to share my faith in a way that was both seen and felt. It is the first time that I have been able to have so many deep spiritual discussions in one place. As I chatted with Sarah, I learned of a young lady with a dream to be a journalist one day and as I was doing my best to show respect and value her, she started to cry in the midst of our conversation. She needed to leave to the bathroom to compose herself. We finished our discussion with me letting her know that she has a purpose and that the Bible says that she was created by a loving Father who knew her before time began and has an amazing plan for her. I was able to share a bit about the truth of her situation. How different it must have been for her to meet and talk with a man here who is not trying to use her. At the end of our talk she smiled at me and said thank you and gave me a huge hug. For a split second I was beside myself uncomfortable with the reality of being hugged by a prostitute, and not just a small hug, but a tight personal friend hug. Then when I saw what seemed to be all eyes there watching me, I became really uncomfortable. Then all at once, I was struck to my core to what was really going on. Rob was treating Sarah as a valuable friend and she was telling me that she felt safe with Rob. I started to shed a few tears and then hugged back. Sarah is not a “B”, she is somebody’s daughter, sister and friend, MY new FRIEND!
As I went to leave one of the nights that I was there, a little girl named Jessica, who is maybe 18, followed me down the crowed street. As she followed behind me, she started saying; “Hey, I am not a “B” (female dog) I am not a “B”.” I turned to her and looked her in the face, put my hand on her shoulder and said, “You are right, you are not a “B”, your name is Jessica and you are precious and were created for a purpose.” This caused her to stare into my face in what looked like disbelief or bewilderment. Then her countenance changed and before my eyes I saw a frightened and lonely little girl. My heart felt broken. I said “Good night Jessica, it’s time you go home.” She said ok and I turned around and walked away. My whole walk home through the steamy and very dark Zambian night, the words of Jessica kept ringing in my ears. “I am not a “B”, I am not a “B”……..
It was during my walk that the unnerving realization came to me; I was a part of the problem. Even though she could not articulate it, her words were screaming through the darkness out to anyone who will dare to listen. When she was saying that she was not a “B”, she was really asking me and you: “where is a place I can find value and feel loved?!” In fact her words are really a question for those who call themselves Christians. Where are those who call themselves by Jesus’ name? They certainly were nowhere to be found in the place where those who are crying out for love, dignity and acceptance are. How often have I heard from the pulpit words of condemnation for people like Jessica? How many times have I been the one to talk about drunkards and prostitutes? Here I am in a country far removed from my place of birth, an outsider and foreigner, yet somehow I was allowed the amazing privilege of being in company of royalty. Jessica, Sarah, Mimi, Sandra and Abigail are daughters of the Most High. I can’t help but wonder, where are all the Christians when there is a lost and hurting world hoping someone will come find them and bring them back home? The next day I found the answer to my question……………it was Sunday morning.

I looked, but I saw no sign of Jessica there. What is the cost of following Jesus?

Rob

My son is all boy! He likes to crash his toy cars or pretend they are stuck in the mud as I have been in our Landcruiser many times out in the bush. He is loud, energetic and is enamored with guns, policemen and trucks. I get asked at least 20 times a day if when I was a policeman did I shoot anyone. The answer is always no, but he asks anyway. Before Isaiah, my idea of parenting was princesses, tea parties, dress up and dollies. That is because I had three princesses as daughters before the good Lord blessed me with a boy. As all parents find out who have only one gender then are thrown into a second one to parent, boys are a totally different creature!

Now Isaiah is pretty tough and likes to protect his sisters and mommy from bugs and serve them in many ways as I have told him that was his job. The one thing that he is irrationally scared of are things like frogs, toads, snakes and especially turtles! Mind you the boy was never exposed to these things prior to coming into our family and to our knowledge has never been bitten, attacked or in anyway bothered by any of these creatures.

Once when he was two, I found a toad in our yard and brought it to show my children. At this point had no idea of Isaiah’s fear of these things. He looked with interest as the other children did. Then the toad made the mistake of blinking its eye. Isaiah screamed an blood curdling scream with all that was within his tiny body. The toad preceded to empty his bladder in my hand and then turned and jumped out of my hand and hopped down the driveway without looking back.

Fast forward two years later to today. I was in my bedroom talking to my wife when we heard someone screaming in terror. Christa asked f that was one of our kids, so I went to investigate. Sure enough it was one of ours. I looked to see Isaiah running down the path away from our house holding hos shoes in his hands, screaming as he ran. Well, I guess his oldest sister had picked up our pet African tortoise and told Isaiah that she was going to place it on his head.

After I brought Isaiah back in and and calmed him down, I was a mean father and sat him down and while I was holding it, I made him face his fear and hold it with me. After assuring him that daddy would never bring something into the house that would hurt him. He was able to giggle a bit but remained a bit tense.

This story reminds me so much of how so many see God. When we know in our hearts what He is calling us to do to follow him by faith and we spiritually run off screaming with irrational spiritual fear. I have to admit I was like that when we got the call to come to Africa the first time. I told God anywhere but Africa. Look how silly that is now! Why do we fear our Heavenly Fathers plan and just except the plans that the world has for us, our time and our family?

How about you? What do you fear? Has one of those fears been something you know you are suppose to do and to your heart you know it’s what you need to do but you are fearing it. We can never conquer what we won’t turn and face. Give God a try. I am so glad I faced my fear and got on that plane to Africa 14 years ago. Don’t waste your life wondering what could have been………..

Got a call late in the evening Sunday, Valentine’s eve from the orphanage directors of Mission of Love, serving in a remote village area. They had a new baby arrive at their orphanage by recommendation of the committee. The mom is HIV positive, quite ill, as well as severe mental illness so can’t care for the baby. No one knows who the dad is. So the Uncle brought him to the orphanage to bring her to a safe place that can offer life. They asked if we would go check her, since they were currently in the states, to see if anything special needed to be done. They just knew she was 2 days old. We found a precious little girl weighing only 1.8 kg, who looked a bit weak, but otherwise okay, and was able to suck. But because of specific protocols we put in place for HIV exposed babies, and becasue of her small weight and prematurity, we were asked if we could bring her to town to stay with us for a few weeks until her treatments/injections were done. Of course we were delighted to help in this way, and so were all our children! “Baby lomi” as she was affectionately called by Katriya became a wonderful part of our family for just over three weeks. She ate and grew beautifully, becoming a little chub with such kissable cheeks at 2.7 kg by the time she left. What a joy to have a little baby thrive and grow as God designed. She was a good little girl, melting everyone’s hearts, including the special visitors we had. It was hard for my heart to let her go, as it had attached as a mom would, loving her special smell and touch, and thankful she could be kept safe and warm and protected as all babies should. But it was easy to let her go knowing she was going into very loving care at Mission of Love orphanage in the village she came from, and that she would continue to grow enveloped under God’s grace. One of those precious honors in life to care for baby Shalom.

Many of you have been following the story of an amazing woman named Sylvia who Africa’s Child has had the privilege of helping to get her a house built and get her and her four children out of a mud hut that was falling apart.

In case you have not followed this great story, let me give you a brief background:

Sylvia is a young mother of five who lived in a one room mud hut. She worked a third shift job that was a 14 hour shift per night, six days a week. Sylvia left her children alone while she was working. She and her youngest daughter are HIV+ and her husband was deported a couple years ago and she really has no hope of seeing him again. We got involved when we found out that her grass roof was leaking.

Since moving into her new brick, two room house with doors and windows with a tin roof, she has started a new job that allows her day hours. We also discovered through our time working with Sylvia that she was illiterate.

I am so excited to report to you that our intern, Terra, has been working with Sylvia and she has made tremendous progress! Just four short months ago all these things were untouchable dreams for a woman like her caught in the cycle of extreme poverty.

All of this hasn’t been a hand out. Sylvia has worked very hard to continue to invest in her own future. We are so thankful and honored to see this incredibly brave young breaking the chains of extreme poverty for her and her children!

Please keep her in your prayers. We will give you an update from time to time so you will celebrate with her progress.

Terra and Sylvia in class

We received this in our email:

U.S. Embassy Lusaka, Zambia
Warden Message

March 02, 2011
Violence in Mazabuka  and Mpulungu / By-Elections in Mporokoso

The police have restricted travel to and within the town of Mazabuka (on
the road between Lusaka and Livingstone) due to violent civil unrest,
including road blockages.  The unrest appears to be in response to an
altercation Tuesday night (March 1, 2011).  If you are in Mazabuka you
should remain in your home; if you are outside of Mazabuka you should
avoid the area until calm has been restored.

Separately, the Embassy has received reports of violent demonstrations
in Mpulungu (near Lake Tanganyika) due to public outcry over recent
crime incidents.  U.S. citizens in Mpulungu should avoid unnecessary
travel in the town and monitor local media reports for current
information.

Sometimes it catches me off guard when my illusion of “safety” is shattered.  Days like 9-11 serve as one of those moments.  Each of us like to live with the feeling that we are “safe” and can control our environment to maintain a sense of safety.  With the uprisings in the Middle East, drug wars in Mexico on our boarder, protests in China, North Korea wanting to acquire nuclear weapons, threaten our world view that we are safe.  The thinking of most in the West is that kind of stuff happens over there.

Now that I live with my family somewhere “over there” and we receive an email like the one above, it makes me feel vulnerable and unable to protect my family.  In reality, the “unrest” north of where we live, seems to have started over a televised soccer match from England in which the English soccer team Manchester United, which has a huge and loyal fan base here, lost a big match.  Some drunks acted out and the violence broke out.  The problem has been cared for and everything is back to normal now.  But, it got me thinking.  If a soccer match can cause civil unrest, what about other things?  It shows me that there isn’t a ton of difference between the rioters in the streets in Tripoli and the people in the streets here.  Poverty, under education and political corruption are the seeds of unrest anywhere.  Remember Rodney King and the streets of LA?  Yes, it happens even in the US.

Is safety the ultimate goal of my life?  Seriously, how much of my thinking and actions are about safety?  What neighborhood do I want to live in?  Schools I want my kids in?  Where I will go in general?  It seems that somewhere I got the idea that being a Christian would somehow keep me safe.  Unfortunately, the bible seems to paint a different picture than my own personal theology of safety.  I have grown weary of keeping up the false notion of safety and am ready to let go of the fear and live life the way God intended it.  All this to say, every day I have a choice to follow the calling on my life to “Ensure justice for those who are dying and speak for those who have no voice.”-Prov. 31:8-9

Every child that I help, every time I help someone to start to break the chains of extreme poverty on their lives, I am living who I was made to be.  When I can live beyond fear I can achieve the things that I was called to do.  “Greater is He who is in me than he who is in the world.”

When will we get it that life is to live not to hoard while we try and live in our safe bubble?  Safety is NOT a Christian virtue………….