7.21.09

The weather is getting warmer every day. Nights are still absolutely freezing, but during the day the sun warms us to 90 degrees. With absolutely no humidity. It’s wonderful.

Today was another day of teaching in the schools for all of us. We’re starting to feel the “another day” part. It’s beginning to loose the thrill and romance for some of us. Trisha is still struggling to get the principal to let her actually teach in a class, rather than just sitting there, keeping them quiet while they copy notes from the board. Thankfully, she’s been able to teach a bit more lately, but still it is a frustration. Bethany is meeting with more and more troubled kids during her counseling sessions – girl whose mother is a prostitute and also lets her clients “sleep” with her for an extra tip, a boy whose family can’t pay the electric bill this winter, a girl who came by last night to ask for milk for her baby brother because they don’t have any money. The list could continue for miles.

As I rewrite the occurrences of today, my heart again breaks over the injustices in this world. Every morning, I go outside to spend some time in prayer while watching the sunrise. Every morning only children are outside, walking barefoot in the cold sand. No parent cares to ensure they get to school safely. No parent ensures they have what they need for the day or a place to go after school. In America, we won’t let our kids walk to the bus stop alone, even in neighborhoods that are nowhere near as dangerous at Reheboth. We are comfortable in our white little suburbs; comfortable in our wealth, comfortable in our excess, comfortable in our distrust of everything foreign to that world. There is a disconnect between that world (which I know and loved…which I am comfortable in) and this one. I’m not talking about skin color or culture or anything like that. I’m talking about justice, a standard of living, a standard of “right”. Little girls are raped by their fathers everyday, and little boys by their older brothers. Parents in their old age are disposed of by their families and left to sleep outside the home on a shredded blanket, their bodies simply discarded when they die. Children hoard food and will attack each other for a piece of bread.

But yet God is alive here. He is at work in ways more obvious than I have ever been aware of. In Sandfrii hearing for the first time that the rape was not her fault and that God loves sinners. In students who are contemplating suicide to hear that they are not alone in their feelings and not more sinful because of them. In Sylvia’s compassion for the preschools students who having bathed in weeks and have lice jumping out of their hair and runny noses.

I used to think God was in America, that somehow the wealth we are saturated in is from Him, a blessing, a gift. Now it is repulsive to me. Not the wealthy, don’t get my wrong. Just the wealth, the overabundance, the indulgence, and the fact that it sits stagnant in our bank accounts so that we can feel safe and secure.

I learned today that about $8.00 American can send a child to school for a year. And yet most families can’t afford it. What is that, like a burger and fries?

I’m not angry over the wealth. Please don’t misunderstand this for a pointing finger. I’m ashamed of it. I consider myself a “poor college student”, but I could probably pay for this King’s Daughter’s building out of my personal bank accounts. But am I willing? No. Because it wouldn’t be “safe”, it wouldn’t be comfortable. I wonder if Jesus had a different definition than I do. I bet He did. I’m learning.

In Bible study today, I told the girls the story of Esther. I wasn’t planning on it. we were going to talk about the Holy Spirit again. But I felt that they needed to hear about how God used a woman, possibly not too much older than they are.

So I told them about how she was a Jew and an orphan and how she was probably viewed like a Namah (the darkest skin here, often very poor and racially attacked) orphan girl, not seen as worth much at all. she probably viewed herself that way, too. She probably didn’t think that she would be selected as queen because of her race. I can’t imagine as an orphan she and Mordecai had a lot of money, so she may have been underfed or malnourished or dirty or smelly. Then she went to the palace and found favor in the eyes of the beauty manager and then also by the king. She most likely was surprised to be chosen, and terrified when faced with the decision she had to make. She was innocent, young, uneducated, inexperienced…and she saved a nation.

I want these girls to know that walking with Jesus is an adventure. When it’s limited to a list of rules and regulations to follow it is not only hard, but boring. But Jesus offers us a life much more full than a mundane script or policy. He offers us life, and He came so that we could have it abundantly. You know, I bet it is true. What I told my girls, I mean. I don’t think I believed my own words until now. I bet it is an adventure to walk with God. All it takes for me to see it is for me to reread my past posts and the adventure I am on with Him is evident. He’s a good One to adventure with, too. Never a moment He doesn’t have a plan for, never a day He isn’t up to something. There’s nothing too deformed in our lives He doesn’t want to reclaim for His glory, nothing too intimate He doesn’t want to touch.

Wow.

Let’s go on an adventure.