Soul Searching

Something that I was reminded of yesterday in church was that our relationship with God isn't just a *poof* now you understand everything. It is a wrestling, like Jacob in the desert. The hard questions and even harder answers grab onto you and wrestle with you all through the night and just as you think you are getting the upper hand the question reaches down and hurts your hip (well maybe not exactly but something like that).

I think that if all of us would be a little bit more real and actually embrace that we have questions and really allow our selfs to soul search for the answers we might all be a little better off.

So many questions run through my mind all the time that I don't know what to do with. I don't know how to interpret them, process them, and share them.

Questions like:

God why do you allow people who were so close at some point in time to walk so far away from you that just by being out of your light they seem like totally different people?

God why don't I always feel held and understood?

How is it that coming to You and following You has put me in such lonely places?

and even questions that I don't feel like even really talking about like:

God why do you allow women to get pregnant that are just going to have an abortion or who aren't going to properly care for their children when there are so many women trying desperately to have their own children?

Will it all be worth waiting for?

I used to even wonder if I was going to get bored in heaven. I used to wrestle with that question. I used to say, in my head, well I like living for Jesus but I don't know about that whole eternity stuff, it just seems to long. But I wrestled with it (more so it wrestled with me) and as I read a book, The Shack, I started realizing that heaven is about unity it is about the opposite of loneliness it is fulfillment and family and togetherness.

Or when Norah came to Acacia Tree just a frail skeleton with baggy skin who if you would try to look at her, her eyes would roll back in her head and she would shut down I really had little hope. I would question God. How could you let her suffer like this at the hands of those who are supposed to love her? How in the world will she ever make it? Because to tell you the truth to me she looked more dead than alive. I carried her to the hospital and as I was sitting in the van waiting to take her in I heard wailings start, the wailings that are called out when someone dies. Then they rolled the body by the car covered with just a sheet. The pavement was very uneven and I could see the now lifeless body shake with each pot hole and divot in the road underneath it's improper covering. I saw his empty feet sway from side to side. I saw them bring out the bed the now dead man had been lying on and place it in the sun to disinfect it. Just like that he was gone and the hospital was making way for the nest sick patient. At the same time I saw a big black bird land on the ground at the hospital which in Uganda is an omen of death waiting to take someone away, as I was told by Diana. I was terrified. Everywhere I looked it seemed that death was coming down around this little girl. I didn't understand. I wrestled with the seeming injustice. God if she isn't going to make it just call her home so she won't have to suffer anymore.

Yet we covered her in prayer. As I tried to feed her I prayed that she would take the milk because most of the time she wouldn't. As I held her or tried to even look at her I prayed that God would renew her spirit within her to have even a shred of hope. As we would bathe her we prayed that the terrible memories that seemed to be making her scream in terror at the thought of being around water would leave her alone. As I would lay her down to sleep I would pray that the demons that were surrounding her thanks to her island's witch doctor would stay away from her dreams to allow her to sleep in peace. We hoped against logic and prayed against seemingly insurmountable odds. Add this amazing and tiny little girl slowly began to thrive. She doubled in weight. She began to smile and laugh. She began to not only drink milk but to eat solids. She started sleeping well, the bad dreams were gone. She even was able to bathe without screaming in time. And now praise to God she is home with her family that now has seen the love of Jesus first hand, Jesus brought their daughter back from death. I had already left Uganda by the time she went home but I saw the picture on the Zemba Kids facebook page and the look on her father's face is priceless. The suffering is terrible but the joy in healing is greater.

When it all comes down to it. None of this really shakes my faith for long because as I look back to my past and the way my life has gone I know that nothing but the blood of Jesus has protected me and blessed me in uncountable ways.

It's not a sin to question and wrestle and figure things out. On the contrary, I believe that it makes your faith stronger because then it isn't just answers from the preacher it is answers from within yourself that have been tested with fire.

I boldly follow God because He boldly leads me, there is no other way to follow Him.

Visiting Africa

Though I am thousands of miles away I visit Uganda frequently. When I lay waiting to fall asleep at night I find myself on the red dirt roads. I find myself smelling the mix of muchomo, flowers, and fruit that flood the streets of Entebbe. I even smell the stinky silver fish and miss it. I practice walking to different places in Uganda so that I won't forget and will be ready to hit the ground running if ever I go back. Some nights I go through my small repertoire of Luganda and beat myself up when I can't remember a word (for example last night I couldn't remember the word to stand up). I think of a specific time that I said every little word that I can think of.

At night I walk through the markets and go to the beach. I sit by the pool and watch the kids play in the water. I think of Benja's sleepy smile. I think of Norah's infectious smile. I think of Sadie's tootsie roll legs. I think of Sarah Bella crying at the dinner table after she said something that we all thought was funny. I think of Rayah prancing around in a tutu and her clappy shoes. I think of Robin and Blessed and Sarah cracking jokes and eating popcorn.

I know it is silly, maybe, but I can't help but go back there. I can't help but dream of holding the babies. I can't help but love them and pray for them and dream about them. Something about being there and giving special care to these children and learning about the culture and seeing all the beauty that God has put in Africa has my heart kind of stuck there.