Friday, July 30, 2010

Who am I?

There are moments in ones life that are especially monumental. Moments where you can't quite put your finger on it, but you know that everything has changed, will change, or it is about to be flipped completely and utterly upside down. These times are often preceded by a lot of grumbling and praying, asking God "what are you waiting on?" Ironically, you find yourself questioning God without a clue of what you think He is waiting on in the first place. It's more of a self-focused, restless, I am ready but don't know what I am ready for type of grumbling. Then, life takes a swift twist and you find yourself smack dab in the middle of a major torrential downpour of God saying, "OK, here it is, here is what you have been wrestling me for, now go do it." All of the sudden, like a child having his favorite security blanket ripped out of his hands and taken to the trash bin, you find yourself kicking, screaming, and groaning saying "God, you can't possibly be talking to me? No way. Uh huh. Who am I?" Monumental moment, yes, because it changes everything, literally, but instead of leaping with joy you find yourself in a different position, one of bowed knee and face planted in the carpet seeking strength to even process what has been laid before you. Much less having the courage to get up and actually go do it.
Inadequacy. This is the only word I can conjure up for the feelings that arise within, when God calls you to do something completely out of the realm of your comfort zone. Instead of focusing on the truths you have told others thousands of times, truths such as "He will provide for what He calls you to do." You begin to focus completely on the lies you hear from the other side "Who are you to do this? You can't. That's crazy." And in all honesty, those aren't just coming from expected origins, but also from those around you. Not necessarily in words but in actions, expressions, easily read in body language or the absence of words where there is clearly need for them.
Be honest with yourself, you hear it even without others, "Who are YOU?" "Look in the mirror, what do you see? You can't do this and nobody will expect you to." If you are anything like me, nothing keeps you paralyzed more than the fight between the feeling of inadequacy and the all out war you want to rage on overcoming that same paralysis; I am a fighter. I believe in great triumph and overcoming obstacles. Stories of seeing people push themselves beyond all human boundaries and defeat all odds, absolutely motivates and inspires me. I always go for the underdog. I believe in change and I believe unequivocally it starts from within. But, in all honesty, monumental moments are both exhilarating and completely terrifying all in the same.
The natural tendency would be to seek the affirmation of those around you, believing that a positive word might spur on an extra dose of adrenaline needed to defeat the internal sense of inadequacy. The difference there is in our expectation vs. reality; not everyone will respond how you think or even hope they might. Instead, it usually yields more doubt, more fear and yet even still, more inadequacy.
Searching for some encouragement from God, I stumbled upon Exodus chapter four. Moses is stammering. He confesses his own lack of eloquence and imperfection. Frankly, he's scared. Sound familiar? How does God respond? The LORD said to him, "Who gave man his mouth? Who makes him deaf or mute? Who gives him sight or makes him blind? Is it not I, the LORD ? Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say." (Exodus 4:11-12) Again, like many of us, instead of being encouraged by a word from GOD HIMSELF, Moses continues groaning. He fumbles for words and responds just as many of us do, by asking God to send someone else (Exodus 4:13).
Who am I. From the beginning of time, it is evident that many have asked that same question when in essence, none have been great. From an orphan turned queen (Esther), to a mass murderer turned most passionate and avid writer in all of the New Testament (Paul), there are none that have been selected because of their nobility and valor. God chooses the lowest of the low. The weak. The questionable.

We can keep doubting, pouting, kicking and screaming, or we can obediently and faithfully jump. The best thing that can happen is that you fail. The worst thing that can happen is missing out on the invigorating experience of being on the path you know God specifically has laid out for you. Personally, I'd rather go for the latter.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

This is Africa

Imagine with me if you can, the most disgusting, vile and inhuman place on earth you, your children or any children for that matter could conceivably live. Picture the surroundings. Smell the stench. Hear the sounds. Take it all in. Now throw it out, because whatever you have pictured doesn't come close, can't give true justice to the dump; a place countless children inhabit in East Africa.

My mind races as I anxiously ponder the right words to help paint this picture clearly. As I recall the stench of rotten trash, the aroma of human excrement wavering in the muggy air, starved dogs aimlessly wandering the mud soaked land, all encompassing a community of orphans and some of the most impoverished people I've ever encountered in my time here on this earth, tears stream down my face. I close my eyes and I can see the children walking barefoot, covered in mud, in urine, snot caked under their nostrils, digging through trash to find any possible remnants of food. I see their hands reach out to be held. I close my eyes and I can see the desperation in their charcoal eyes, the bones protruding under their hole-filled clothes. My mind flashes back to the lunch my team shoveled quickly on our bus. Peering out the window watching curious faces stare longingly at the rice we gulp down, my heart is ripped open. I rush back to help feed the children only to return back to the street five minutes later in shock; a three year old street orphan shoving rice in his mouth, rice he got from the trash we had just thrown out five minutes earlier. For the rest of my life I will never forget that picture. I will never forget his little hands, the speed at which he shoved the rice in his mouth, how he almost choked on his tiny hand because he couldn't get it in fast enough.
I feel the lumps in my own back as I imagine sleeping atop trash, I feel the ache as I picture tears streaming down the face of a child who longs to see his mom and dad again; hating AIDS and the destruction it causes. Just when you think your heart can't take more, you hear stories of rape among young girls; imagining life for the child that grows within her belly, conceived during the most evil of acts. Just when you feel relief coming, you trample over piles of human excrement, realizing you have just stumbled on the public bathroom..
After you take that in..then you travel through the community doing home visits to families. As you push through the garbage, trample through the mud and pouring rain, ask permission to enter the home, more horror awaits you. I shudder at what else could have been seen were electricity even an option. Flies swarm, dirt and grime cover every surface, babies huddle in a corner in oversized torn shirts; I listen while a mother describes her life through tear soaked eyes. Focused not on the tiny mud-built shack that houses countless people, I turn to the mother. As water spills out of her eyes she re-lives the death of her husband only a week prior. Eighteen years of marriage, only 38 years old, life at a screeching halt before it had even began. He was the only source of income and his only source of income consisted of sifting through the dump to find scraps, hoping to sell what he could to provide enough food to sustain his family one more day. As she continues to wail, frightened at what the future holds for her and her family, tears begin falling from our eyes. For twelve dollars a month, her rent is paid, can you fathom that? Every house we entered, every hand we held tight, every child we scooped up into our arms, was another example of Gods clear calling in James 1:27. "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."

Survival is an art here; it's a skill that has been learned not by choice but by force. This is a community that not even it's neighbors will go near. They are outcasts, forced out of the eye of people within distance to yield at least some minimal relief. It captured my heart. It stole my affections. It's a dump, but God is the God of this city. He has a plan and purpose for these people and I intend to do whatever I can, inspire others to do whatever they can to move boldly to help. Once you have seen, you are responsible. We have seen. But now you have heard.

This is Eastern Africa...

More to come soon...




Through Their Eyes







Munchkin Land Designs
Papers by Laura Deacetis