One Heart. Two Homes.

            

The flight has been booked. It has been booked for some time now, but I think that it is finally sinking into my mind that in 117 days I will be headed west to see my home country again. I will have been in Uganda for one full year and I am not sure that I can begin to communicate how this year has changed me. I’m not saying that I am a different person; fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, I am still the same Jordan. I still jump a little when a bird flies too closely to my head. I still can’t stand the smell of celery or the taste of cilantro. I will still choose to watch Rocky over any chick-flick produced to date. And as soon as I touch down on American soil I am ordering a Venti Iced Dirty Chai and there is no stopping me. 

            But spending a year in another country, especially one that I have felt so at home in does change a person to some degree. There are going to be foods that I crave that the American grocery store won’t have. Hot days will rarely be cooled off by a monster rain storm. My mornings won’t be filled with the sounds of monkeys playing in my back yard or kids making their way to school. I won’t have the opportunity to walk to my friends’ houses and sit with them over a charcoal stove while we prepare dinner together. I can’t even take time to go see those friends who might as well be considered family. 

            It’s a difficult thing when your heart has two places to call home. There are people back in the States that I miss on a daily basis and things about America that I wish I could bring to Uganda (Target, dark chocolate, almonds, Kraft macaroni and cheese….just to name a few). I am beyond excited to come home and see everyone and catch up and enjoy the comforts of America. To not have to wonder if I will have hot water when I step into the shower, or if I will have any water at all. To have unlimited wireless internet practically everywhere I go. To be a citizen again and not have to constantly go to the immigration office to update my visa. To understand what people are saying around me without having to use excessive hand motions to fill in the gaps.

 It will be so sweet to be home. 

            But then there’s the dilemma of what I will miss. I will miss the cold showers after a long, hot walk home. I will miss mangoes, matoke, avocadoes as big as my face, ground nuts and chicken. I will miss the simplicity of pre-paid phones that take away the shock of an outrageous phone bill at the end of the month (I've gotten in trouble for that one too many times). I will miss the challenge of navigating the city when I have to go in for my visa or any other errand. And although it is so hard to communicate when you can’t really speak the language, I will miss trying something new and learning and laughing so hard after you say something completely wrong, but they still know what you mean.

            It will be so heartbreaking to leave home.          

 There are some legitimate fears that come along with leaving Uganda. What is next? Will I ever be back? How many things have changed back in the States? Will I be an outsider when I return? All of these thoughts go through my head on a weekly basis at this point. I have fallen in love with this country and the people that live here. Despite all the frustrations that come with living in a developing country, I am still drawn to this place. My prayer in this next stage of life is that God would make things clear for the future and what it is that I will be doing next. Please pray for clarity in my heart and mind and a willingness to go and do whatever it is that God has for me to do. 

 

“How lucky I am that I have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” --Winnie the Pooh 

 "You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart will always be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place." 

--Anonymous

It Was Always for My Sake

Easter is approaching. In the business of life I have really been caught off guard with how quickly it has arrived this year. We have been spending time in our Bible studies preparing our hearts for the weekend, but it still seems as if I have been completely unaware of the holiday’s arrival.

Today though we sat in a Bible study and listened to a detailed account of the crucifixion of Christ. It isn’t the first time that I have done something like that, but this time I did it while thinking on 2 Corinthians 5:21, “For our sake He made Him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.”

For our sake. For my sake. 

 

Before I was brought into this world; before I was conceived; before my existence was even thought of, I put a man on a cross. My sin, oh how wretched it is, put an innocent man to death. That concept is a hard one to grasp because thinking before our existence requires stepping outside of our currently reality.

Many times when I think about what Christ did for me when he died, I think about it as him dying for whatever would happen in the future, not that he was dying for what he already knew was going to happen. That he was literally dying for sins that I had yet to commit, but were still known to him.

Easter is a time for rejoicing and a time for mourning. Mourning over our sin and how we are such imperfect people who need a Savior. And a time for rejoicing because our Savior came, and loved us so much that he drank the cup of wrath so that we never have to drink that cup.

I pray this is a reality in your life today; that you are rejoicing in the love shown by our selfless Savior.

I think one thing that the Lord has shown me since I have been out here is what a huge sinner I am. When you take time to go to another country to do ministry people always encourage you by telling you how brave you are, or how the Lord is going to use you in amazing ways. And while all of those things are comforting to the uncertain girl getting on a plane for an undefined period of time, they are also a slight distraction to the reality of the situation.

If anything, being out here in the jungle, confronted with many different situations and inconveniences, I have been floored by my sinfulness. This has been the fast track to sanctification, but I am ashamed to admit how many times I have failed and not responded in the way that I should. But, as always, God has been faithful to gently bring me back to himself and give grace.

This Easter I am reminded of my Savior and his selflessness. I am reminded that He didn’t die because I might be born and sin one day, but He died because He knew that He was creating me some 2,000 years later and that I was going to sin, but He wanted to save me.

Our God is all-knowing, sacrificial, spotless, and gracious in the way that He molds us daily. I can’t wait to celebrate these things this weekend with my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ.

Please be praying for the people that we are sharing with that their eyes would be opened to the fact that Jesus really did die for their sins.

Learning to Live a Needy, Loving Life

Most of my time here in Uganda is spent with kids. It’s practically unavoidable. Back home I had my fair share of time around those of the younger age bracket, but it wasn’t at all like it is now. I could go to class, a coffee shop, work, friends’ houses, and run to the store without coming into contact with children. The life here is a different story. There are very few stolen moments throughout the day that I am not being sat on, hugged, having my hand held, jumped on, climbed on, being asked a question, pulled to go play a game, asked for a sweetie or water, tied up as the damsel in distress, or being shown something gross that someone has just killed, stepped in, or found laying in the bush. I live a very kid friendly life.

 In an effort of complete transparency, I find sincere joy in being around kids, but there are the moments that I just “need a break”. I don’t know how many times I have said that since I have been here. Before I came I couldn’t imagine every growing tired or exhausted by those sweet little faces that smile at you and shout “Jerdani! Jerdani!” (their version of Jordan). They have such innocence, spunk, sheer abandonment. Personal space or social boundaries do not apply to them. There’s no need to knock before they enter into my house because why wouldn’t I want to see them and give them a hug and play for the rest of the day until it's too dark to see on the walk home? Struggle is a reality in their little lives, but they still find the energy and excitement to run and play and shout and forget everything that is going on around them for those precious moments. My heart breaks every time that I give a kid that I have never met before a hug and immediately they are clinging to me for as long as I will allow and all of their trust has become wrapped up in this stranger who just showed them the first act of affection they have felt in days. Their world is small, but their love is large. They crave love. They need love. But don’t we all? 

Observing these kids as they eat, play, learn, interact, and live as children in a very simple world without electronics and media, has taught me so much about the basic needs of humanity; the bare essentials that we are sometimes too proud to admit that we need. I have realized that over time, I have become a very independent person who avoids admitting my need for others at the fear of looking needy or helpless. In my mind, as soon as you need the help or attention or care of others you are at the mercy of that person; which is unacceptable. I have been missing out on the joys that come from community and mutual care and concern. Sure, I have my few trusted friends that I would share my burdens with, but outside of that I would be hesitant to let on to any struggles taking place in my life. This is ironic seeing that I have a counseling degree and I’m always encouraging people to bring their issues into the light because that is the only place that they will find freedom. 

The people here in Uganda, in this village, depend on each other. They depend on each other for their physical and emotional needs. When someone is struggling or parents pass away, the kids are taken to an Auntie’s house or a Jaja’s (grandparent’s) house and looked after. There really isn’t any debate about it and the idea of Family Services is so foreign that they laugh at the idea. Of course you will take in your brother’s kids if there is any kind of need. Of course you will work another job to send money to your sister so that she can pay her school fees and finish high school. Self sacrifice for the community is assumed. There is no shame in asking and there is no pride in giving. I have to schedule time in each week to go and visit different people in the community because as soon as I begin to slack off I hear about it and they are wondering what is wrong because they haven’t had me drop by to chat. For all the years that I lived in the States, I can’t really remember just “stopping by” to chat with my neighbors, and I’m sure that they weren’t offended by that. Community is strong here; it’s an expression of concern and unity. It’s an expression of love. People want to be thought of and they want to be shown that you are making an effort to love them. It takes an effort to visit. It takes time, it takes energy to walk to their place, it takes stepping out of your comfort zone as you fumble through language barriers and cultural differences, it takes love for that person to put all that aside and put their needs before your own.

 In the first weeks that I was here I didn’t want to go visit people unless they had invited me because I thought that it would be rude to just show up. Maybe they were busy, maybe they didn’t want visitors, or maybe they would be with someone else and didn’t want to be interrupted. But I quickly discovered that if they were busy, I became busy with whatever they were doing, if they were relaxing, I would relax with them and chat and drink chai and eat some mango, and if they were with someone else I would jump into the conversation and potentially make a new friend to add to the visitation list.

 Life here is about community, literally you do life together, all of it. It’s beautiful and exhausting all at the same time. You are forced to bear the burdens of those around you. When someone is struggling, you feel their struggle, when someone is rejoicing you feel their joy, when someone is in need, you fight to meet that need. I have never felt so much a part of a community before. I have never been stripped of my pride and self-sufficiency in such a raw way. 

God has been teaching me so much about being transparent to those around me, pouring myself out to the ones I am surrounded by, and laying bare all of my boundaries and walls of pride and independence. Not only with those who I am doing life with, but also with Him. Many of my prayers have become declarations of my inability to help myself, admissions of my need for God’s mighty hand because I have no answers, no conclusions, and no solutions. God has been dealing with me in a faithful and gentle way. He is such a kind and wise God who pushes us to painfully tear off the pieces of ourselves that do not bring him glory and that hinder us from clinging only to him. I have been meditating on Psalm 30 lately and verse one has meant a lot to me when it says,

“I will extol you, O Lord, for you have drawn me up and have not let my foes rejoice over me.”

When the kids come running and shouting “Jerdani!” with their arms out and eyes shining trusting that I am going to catch them, or try my best, when they jump towards me, I can’t help but think about God as our Father drawing us into his arms. When I hold these little ones I just want to wrap my arms around them and give them enough love to last weeks and weeks until they can feel that kind of love again, I think about how the only place that we can find pure, true love that will never run out is in the arms of God. When I read this verse I think that sometimes we can be the biggest foes in our own life. We limit ourselves to love others and be loved by others, and we limit ourselves to know the true love of our Father. 

We were created to need love. We were created to love. We were created out of love.

More Precious Than Gold: Imperishable. Undefiled. Unfading.

I write this sitting outside with no shower for the 3^rd night in a row. No water. I am to the point that I am wishing for a cold shower right now. With how hot it has been for the past week the thought of the freezing water splashing all around me and running through my hair sounds like a spa treatment.

The honeymoon is over.

It has almost been 6 months since I landed here at Plot 157 Kubamitwe, Uganda; 6 wonderfully trying months. I have been encouraged, strengthened, pushed, and confronted in ways that I never expected. But no, really, most of this I didn’t expect. I expected the cold showers, no showers, bugs, lack of Target runs, and the severe absence of edible sushi. I expected to be challenged in my walk with the Lord, to grow in my faith, and to make friendships that would prove to be invaluable.

What I didn’t expect was the burdens that would be transferred from those that I have come to love to my heart. I didn’t expect to spend days and nights feeling as if my head is couldn’t hold one more thought. I didn’t expect the guilt that I would feel at the fact that I have never suffered as these people, that I have a seriously difficult time identifying.  

I have lost people close to me before, either to death or the fracturing of a relationship for one reason or another. I have felt the pressure to make ends meet when it comes to bills, tuition, rent, and groceries. I have been sick before, or known people close to me who have struggled with illness; but everything that I search my brain for and identify as some sort of trial pales in comparison to what those around me are dealing with.

Death, illness, broken families, hunger, anxiety, and depression are rearing their ugly head in the lives of those that I have come to love and been given the opportunity to minister to. Everyone has a story and not many of them have a happy ending.

A couple of weeks ago an elderly lady in one of my Bible studies lost her daughter to a botched surgery to remove the baby that she had just miscarried. Esther, the lady in my Bible study, has a heart condition which causes her to have a heart attack about once a month. Her daughter was the one who rushed her to the hospital, which is about 45 minutes away, each time that she would have an attack, and would provide the money for the treatment. Now that her daughter has passed away Esther is grieved because she has lost her daughter and anxious because there is no one who can care for her now. There is only so much that I can do in this situation. I can’t go and live with Esther, I can’t have her move in with us, I could pay for her hospital fees, but her village is about 30 minutes away from mine, so if she was to somehow reach me when she has an attack, it would take almost twice as long for me to get her to the hospital. This is when helplessness sets in pretty hard.

It is somehow difficult to go spend the day with someone in the village and help them wash their clothes by hand, pump their water from a bore hole, cook their meal over a charcoal fire, dig their food from their garden, and then sweep the dirt floor of their mud home and then go back to my cushy house that has running water, a stove, and even a new washing machine that I didn’t know how I was going to live without.

I have spent many nights praying and asking God to heal those around me. Heal them physically, spiritually, and relationally; but what I have come to see is that God can truly use suffering in someone’s life to bring glory to himself and to grow that person in their faith. I can’t count the number of times that I have heard this whether in church or a counseling class, but for the first time in my life I think that I actually believe it. I have actually come to believe 1 Peter 1:6-7 when it says, “in this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith – more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire – may be found to result in PRAISE & GLORY & HONOR at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”

I really believe that our suffering, no matter how severe, is only for a little while. I see how it perfects our faith which is more precious than gold. And I have witnessed those who suffer choose, through their tears, to praise and worship our God who is worthy of glory and honor. God has been teaching me so much about trusting in his future grace. He is using the suffering of those around me to grow my faith and he is allowing me to witness the heart change of these loved ones who are struggling with things that I can’t begin to imagine dealing with.

As soon as I begin to feel guilty for the life that God has given me to live compared to the one that he has given to those around me I remember that we are all recipients of a future grace that proves this life to be temporary. The focus is not on the things that we have in this life, but how we glorify God in this life and hope for the one that is to come. I have learned to go without many things, but I have also learned to be thankful for the resources that God has given me and use them as selflessly as possible.

A quote from John Piper in his book Future Grace has served as a great encouragement to me these past few months. It says, “Only if we trust God to turn past calamities into future comfort can we look back with gratitude for all things…Be strong, and do not doubt that God will be as gracious in the future as he has been in the past.” I shared this with Esther as we sat and recounted all the ways that God has shown her grace in the past, and I was able to witness her tears turn from sorrow to rejoicing, she was not the only one who was praising God through their tears that afternoon. He is so good. He is so very good beyond anything that I can imagine or understand. The fact that we serve a God who can take terrible suffering and turn it into a glorious thing brings me comfort that surpasses all understanding.

Believer, contemplate your suffering today, whatever it might be, and rejoice. Rejoice because God is a loving, powerful, sovereign God who is for you, and secured for you a hope that is in heaven.

Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls. 1 Peter 1:8-9

One of the nicer houses in the village. Bricks made by hand, built with love by the people who call this place home.

Cassava root. It looks gross, and sometimes it is, but it is a staple food around here. When in Rome...

Some kids from the nearby town. Who doesn't love a photo-op?