Monthly Archives: July 2011

The Story. [Unwritten.]

Just some of the girls that came to our goodbye party. More than forty came that day.

The secret thrill of reading any great work of literature is shrouded in the unknown. As the plot twists wildly and suspense intensifies and tantalizes the mind, we revel in the intoxicating ecstasy of uncertainty. The best stories-the ones that arrest and engage your mind and affections-those stories leave you trapped in the throes of your questions until the last page. The answers belong to the author.

 

If  life is a story, the chapter of mine set in West Africa has come to a close. Every chapter of a book changes the course of the story-and the past two years have changed the course of mine forever. I am indescribably thankful for the uncomfortable gift that my time in Africa has been to me. I think it will take a lifetime to understand exactly how it is that Jesus changed my heart and life in Senegal.

I moved to Dakar to share the gospel with Muslim students that don’t have access to it. What I learned during the

Michelle strung pictures of our two years in Senegal all over the apartment for our goodbye party, and the girls took them home as favors.

course of those two years, is that the gospel is not just for Miriam, Khadi and Fatou: it is for me. That Jesus is not simply good advice-He must be everything. God has not redeemed me and abandoned me, but rather is chiseling away at the calcified, gangrenous parts of my heart, making it come alive again. He is walking, healing, confronting, disciplining, caring, loving, being gracious to, and sanctifying me so that as I go, sin slowly loses its power as my life is ever so slowly conformed to the image of His Son. Every freezing shower, every time I got sick or missed home so much it was hard to breathe, every scorching, filthy day, every catcall, and every Muslim student that politely listened but never understood –those were all pieces of God changing my heart forever. The gospel is about relentless love, but I think it’s also about hope. That we don’t have to be what we hate.  And we no longer have to be afraid.

 

With Fama.

I cannot explain what it was like to walk away from the Muslim women that have left an indelible mark on my life, and still do not understand that. Women that are too afraid or too hardened to follow Jesus-at least for now. Watching Miriam walk out of my front door for the very last time was gut-wrenching. But in the midst of a flurry of goodbyes that make my heart ache, there is hope.

You see, this story doesn’t resolve. Miriam, Fatou and Khadi still don’t believe. Through tears and frustration, I cling to the simple truth that though I left Senegal, Jesus did not. Right now, audacious faith means believing that though I do understand why, or how, or when-God does not need me to reach those women. He never did. And while I do not understand why so many of my Muslim friends still do not believe, my joy is in who Jesus is and the glorious truth that His love for women like Miriam was measured at the cross, and His power to save them was measured at the resurrection. He can redeem her. He can redeem all of them. And I pray that He will.

The story isn’t over. And the thing is, I’m not sure how it ends. There are eight people [including Michelle! I’ll be giving you all of their blogs so you can still follow life in Senegal.] returning to Dakar to carry on what a team of five began

Miriam and Fanta looking at pictures.

in October of 2009. [And goodness, how long ago that seems!] Women like Fatou Ba, that are so close to making the choice to follow Jesus but are paralyzed by terror of what the consequences might be, will continue to have women that deeply love Jesus walking beside them as they come to understand that nothing but Jesus will ever satisfy. And there are, of course, Senegalese women that we’ve left behind in Dakar that follow Jesus and want to see their country follow Him too.

“I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh.” Ezekiel 11:19

Pray with me, that Jesus does this in Senegal. That the unwritten stories of women like Fatou, Miriam, Khadi and so many like them, do not end in unbelief. There is no heart that’s too hard, too far gone, for Jesus to rescue. He does it every day.

 

And so here’s to the next chapter-whatever it holds. Breathe in, breathe out, and with not a little trepidation and a whole lot of expectant faith, tentatively put one foot in front of the other and follow Jesus into a new adventure.

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Filed under Ministry moments, Senegal

Oh, Brother.

With the author himself.

I don’t know where to start. The past week has been filled with relentless waves of emotion that swell at the most inconvenient moments-and subside without warning. I find myself all at once elated and relieved, in disbelief and overwhelmingly sad. This morning is the first chance I’ve had since landing in Raleigh to just sit. To be still, and begin the process of understanding what exactly the past two years have been. To begin to understand that I am done-that one seven and a half hour plane ride later, I no longer sleep on the floor, spend my days speaking French and haggling for everything from taxis to fruit, fielding unwelcome marriage proposals and talking about Jesus with Muslim women that know nothing about Him.

 

What an odd thing. What a very, very odd thing.

I’m going to tell you about leaving later. First, I need to think. I need to feel. I need to finish my laundry. [And cuddle with the washing machine. Glorious, glorious contraption that it is.] Today, however,  I’m going to start telling you about coming home.

 

My little brother Stephen, aside from being one of the sweetest boys ever to walk the face of the planet, is also a poetic genius. If he weren’t so busy being a child-prodigy and taking the computer engineering world by storm [hey buddy, when you read this, I can’t figure out how to log a new contact into my smarty-pants phone…], he would most assuredly be the next Dr. Seuss. I arrived home from the airport, bleary-eyed and unbelievably caffeinated [oh hey, venti skim iced caramel latte. Where have you been all my life?] to find this:

 

My baby brother had put together a gift basket full of wonderful American things, with a poem scotch-taped to each one. It’s simply too good not to share.

[A box of cinnamon Life cereal]:

From Senegal and two years full of strife

Where men with many goats would call you wife

That chapter over, finished now

It’s time, a new one starts, and how!

We’re glad you’re back to be part of our life

 

[Bath and Body Works Cucumber Melon hand soap. My sweet brother spent forever smelling all of the soaps trying to find one that he thought I might like. He’s single, ladies…but you’ve got to get past me, first.]:

In your blog, we read as you would mope

About your showers freezing, with no hope

A polar bath is not required

Tub is scrubbed, and boiler fired

So here is a loofah and some soap

 

[A bag of Hershey kisses.]: A kiss for every thought of missing you

Ian and Stephen took me to Jimmy Johns for my first meal home! Beach club sub with no sprouts, chips and a cherry coke. And there was much rejoicing.

Is what I planned, I didn’t think it through

It’s really not the total count

I can’t afford the full amount

So these will have to do

 

[A box of Puffs Tissues} When changes get you down as they unfurl

With these in hand, in bed, you’ll cry and curl

But note, your little brothers get

The right to point and laugh a bit

And call you such a girl :)

 

[A jar of Nutella.]

 I know that cocoa makes you dance and sing

Nutella, the next item that I bring

Not really chocolate, but you know

That if you give this stuff a go

It goes on everything

 

[A bar of emergency chocolate (Because somebody knows his sister.)]:

On days when life is being so unkind

And desperation hits, I think you’ll find

A chocolate bar is just the thing

An end to troubles it may bring

If nothing else, it might help you unwind

 

[A jug of laundry detergent. Hallelujah, amen.]:

The sorry state of Senegal-cleaned clothes

Will have the boys fleeing, hand at nose

Your laundry now need really not

Be soaked by tub in water hot

Detergent and the washer will fix those.

 

I love him, I do.

It’s time for a run-but stay tuned for stories of leaving, and stories of coming home. After all, I haven’t even mentioned the most highly anticipated airport tackle hug that the world has ever seen [or the rest of Kellan's trip to NC].

And I do believe that this little gem begs for some sort of explanation…

Though now that I stop to ponder it, what really is there to say?

It’s good to see you, America. :)

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Filed under Family, Home