Be the Clay Blog

I have been asked the same question by so many people that I finally feel it warrants an answer. I have been posed the following question and comments, "Why aren't you writing emails like you did last year?" "You haven't been sharing your heart." "They are too short." There are a few responses I can use such as lack of time and proper electricity & internet that works about the speed of a great-grandmother with a walker. My reply could be laziness induced by the sublime enabling of Facebook. I could also come back with the excuse of a loss of words. While the first two retorts have some truth, the third is simply a lie. There are plenty of words that have flowed through my heart, soul and mind the past four months. I just haven't wanted to share them partly out of the lack of understanding of what I was going through and partly out of privacy. A bride doesn't divulge the details of her honeymoon. Let me explain.

This current time in Uganda has been the most intimate thus far and I have felt the overwhelming need to protect this closeness much like a wife protects her relationship with her husband. Intimacy isn't just a closeness or a warm, cozy friendship but something inmost, deeply within. The Bible says in Psalm 139:15, "My frame, my very substance, was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body." I have learned that verse in a way I never expected.

That secret place refers to the womb and to the mysterious depths of God where He formed me before time began as we know it. "Secret place " comes from a Hebrew word meaning to keep close. To keep intimate. Intimacy is captured in secret, where one is kept as close as possible in order to ripen that private familiarity where only you know the other's deepest desires and needs. It is there where the nearness and inseparability is fostered no matter the distance between two people. In that secret place you are concealed from all, but the one you are intimate with. You are hidden away from the world, but your world now exists of the one beside you in the secret place.

This is where I have been hiding with God for the past four months. He has brought me to a secret place where all I have come to know has unraveled and been stripped from me. It is not until a husband and wife go to the bridal chambers, in secret, that a marriage truly begins. It is the same with God. I am on a 2nd honeymoon with Him where I truly needed to begin again. Where I needed an formation adjustment, if you will.

A few months before I left the States I attended a church service with my good friends the Earicksons. After worship, in a congregation of 3000 people, where I did not regularly attend, someone called my name from the pulpit and as I stood I was told, "After tonight, there will be no question anymore." In truth, after these past four months, there will be no question anymore. See I have battled doubt about my calling to be a missionary. I have feared rejection. I have worried that God would change His mind about me. My mistakes kept haunting me. I kept a hedge of protection around me with God and everyone I am close with. I was terriified of intimacy, always on my guard so I wouldn't get hurt. That is why I had to go into this time of intimacy-building with God. Despite my busy schedule here in Uganda, God has kept me spiritually close in a secret, secluded place. Much like a honeymoon where a bride learns the desire of her husband for her, I have learned of God's deep desire for me and what He has created me for.

It is in the secret place that we are made, fabricated, created, welded, and embroidered. My process of building was not carried out like a typical Kampala shop, where everything is built alongside the road so no secret is kept hidden. Instead God pulled me into the depths of closeness. Before anything can be made, it must first be stripped. I was removed of the garments that I hid behind. Some of the brands I wore were fear, doubt, regret, control and then some more fear. We all have them, but there comes a time where we are to don new attire for the next season of our lives. When we have to go into seclusion and be refitted with the proper wear so that we are prepared for what the coming season brings.

Imagine the anxiety that a bride feels as she is undressed in front her husband for the first time. She is imperfect, unformed,and indistinct. She desperately hopes that the warm candlelight on her skin will detract from the deficiencies she has tried to hide during the courtship, but now all is exposed to her husband. Like that bride on the first night of her marriage, I was bared with all my scars and scratches and imperfections totally on display so my Bridegroom could begin the process of making me radiant, without stain and wrinkle, holy and blameless. I was indistinct until God distinguished me and set me apart for His use, then gave me His name.

When a husband looks past the imperfections and sees only his beautiful bride, there is a love that springs forth from her. There is a confidence that she wears and it shouts, "I am beautiful!" It was in the secret place that I became fearfully and wonderfully made again and I know it full well. It wasn't that I didn't have that realization before, but like any wife that has been married for some time, I had to be reminded. I had to be told again that my Bridegroom desires me despite the wrinkles and stains I have collected along the path of life. It was God's way of sending me a dozen long-stemmed, red roses with a passionate love letter attached.

You never get to a secret place by ordinary methods or a route well-traveled. The path is clandestine and empty. All you hear is the gentle voice of someone who loves you beckoning you a step closer. It is scary going in, much like a honeymoon night, but you eventually emerge radiant and determined. You are someone's Beloved. I am God's Beloved.

I have no idea what the next season is that God is preparing me for. He knows the desires of my heart to be married and share a life and ministry with someone, but He also knows that I have given my times into His hands. He is the welder, I am merely His blank canvas to do with as He chooses and designs.

If for some reason you are feeling like you too are in desperate need of a "2nd honeymoon" and need the reminder that you are beloved and beautiful, God is more than willing to oblige His bride. You don't have to share the details, your radiance will speak for itself.

His Clay,
Susan

I admit it. I have an ongoing love/hate relationship with the Proverbs 31 Woman. At times she inpsires me to no end. Yes, who can find a more virtuous woman? She is an exquisite picture of a truly remarkable and lovely woman, wife and mother. At other times I want to know where she lives so I can toilet paper her front lawn. Really, anyone who makes Martha Stewart look like a slacker has got some serious issues. I am sure she never has a bad hair day. Probably doesn't even know what cramps are. She never puts her foot in her mouth, repeatedly, like me. She would be completely aghast at my dirty, dusty floors, then would almost certainly give me pointers on housecleaning then wash my floors herself like some deranged Mary Poppins. What a show-off.

But like any difficult person, once you get to know them and what makes them tick, your opinion of them softens and you see something of yourself in them. That happened to me these past few days. I have found myself housecleaning my soul and spirit. I often compared myself to this woman whom we will call Prov to save space. She was like that tall model shopping and trying on clothes in the dressing room next to me. As I tried on the same outfit as her and checked myself out in the mirror, I felt like a speck of dust against the superstar. Not only does she do everything perfectly, but all that are around her think the same. Plus she has the husband and children. For us single ladies, we feel even more inept. We hope that our singledom gives us the blessed loophole from trying to be everything Prov is. Do we singles have a get of jail free card? What is a woman's worth? What is my worth? Does a woman have worth if no one is there to recognize her worth? Why does she have to be so perfect?

Well God got tired of me talking smack about Prov so He sat me down the other night and introduced me to who Prov really is. "Susan, do you even know what it means to be a virtuous woman?" The words that came to my mind were pure, quiet, high morals and always polite. I am 1 out of 4.That is what the Webster's dictionary says, but God said dig deeper. "Get to know Prov. You might actually like her." So began my character study of this irritating woman.

The Bible says, "Who can find a virtuous woman?" What does it truly mean to be virtuous? When someone has virtue it means they are an asset, advantage and they are good. But why are they an advantage and asset? What makes them good? The Hebrew word used is "chayil." It means an army, force, virtue, wealth, able, strong and worthy. It comes from a word meaning to be wounded, shapened, shaken, and to writhe in pain. Prov isn't just a woman with kickbutt housekeeping skills and good manners, she is an effective force. She is a strong, able and worthy woman. And not because of good genes, but because of the pain she has endured, and the trials and hardships that have molded her. She is the example of the army within a woman and what can be done when there seems to be no way. I am a strong, able and worthy woman because I have learned to walk despite pain and hurt. God has shaped me through the many trials and mistakes. Like Prov, I have been hard pressed, but not crushed. Perplexed but not in despair. Persecuted but not abandoned. Struck down but not destroyed. That is where our virtue comes as women. What we have bore in pain has given birth to strength in our souls.

It is the failures that have made me able. It is the painful hardships that have made me strong. It is the storm that has made me a force to be reckoned with. As women we do not have the natural-born strength of a man, but we possess a strength that has been forged by fire and trial.

In verse 17, Prov girds her loins with strength and then strengthens her arms. She goes to the gym too? When she is girding up, she is girding up with physical strength but also with praise. There is something that happens when we praise that the sickest of people find vigor. Then she strengthens her arms. Not just her physical arms. The arms represent her force, power and might and when Prov strengthens them she is establishing that force, fortifying her reserves. It is an internal, intentional strengthening. We are called to develop a power and boldness that comes from within. It is about a tenacity forged from the depths of our souls. Being tenacious is simply holding together what wants to come apart. Hold fast. When we "hold fast" we cling to the one thing that is our glue - Jesus. We clutch to Him and His promises. By holding fast to Him, to that inner strength that He is, we bind the enemy, we conquer the things trying to take a hold of our families. We are able to continue when we want to give up. "God, I want to hold fast for my family. For my husband and children one day. Keep me together when I want to fall apart. Be the glue that binds me for another day."

Then Prov, this mighty woman of God has the strongest muscle of all - her heart. You see, her worth isn't in the deeds she does, but the reasons behind them. It is the heart behind the action that makes Prov priceless, even if the action fails. Is my heart behind my actions or is my head? Case in point. Verse 12 says "She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life." Prov is truly a noble wife. In King James, they use "will do." That is the same word used when David had a chance to kill Saul. In 1 Samuel 24:17 this word was translated as "rewarded." David didn't reward Saul as he deserved to be rewarded. Prov didn't treat her husband as he earned. Could this mean that perfect Prov's husband wasn't perfect? I assumed it was easy for her to be ideal and flawless because her husband always put the seat down, took out the trash without being asked, brought her home roses on a regular basis, liked to cuddle and loved to watch chick flicks. A strong woman doesn't do what is done to her. No paybacks in Prov's marriage. She believes he deserves God's best even when he doesn't come close. "God, make me love someone that way. Teach me to love without paybacks. I want to dish out what is good, not what is justified. I don't want to seek out recompense with the people I love and adore. Make serving the ones I love the source of my character."

Not only is Prov loving and has a tenacious inner strength, but she is smart. I always pictured her as a stupid, absent-minded woman who knew nothing better than being a domestic idol. Verse 16 says she considers a field and then buys it. In all honesty, before I knew her, I pictured her being wishy-washy. "Should I buy it or not buy it? What should I do, what should I do?" Then in my mind she would pick up a flower and pull off each petal one by one saying, "Buy it, don't buy it" until the last petal made the decision for her. The word "considers" means to plan, devise, imagine and plot. With intention and purpose she determines whether it is a good deal. Prov is not a thoughtless creature. She is a plotter with the best of intentions. When was the last time I genuinely plotted for my family's future? Prov isn't a spur of moment gal when it comes to her family's future and their needs. "Lord, in my haste and imprudence have I missed the mark? Have I bought things, whether it be a field or the devil's lies, in a sudden impulse without plotting the outcome and how it would affect my life and those around me? God, teach me to plot and plan with purpose and intent for my family's good."

I fall short in every way. I admit it, openly and with great humility. And I have fallen short in one of the worst ways. My frustration with Prov was in trying to be like her. I was trying to live up to the assumptions I made and copying her actions. It is not in who we try to be like that we find virtue and worth. It is found in God's heart that as women we find the power to be worthy and virtuous. It is in God's love and grace that we are shaped and molded into a determined and steadfast inner army that fights for our husbands, our children and our communities. It has taken me a long time, but I have found my virtue and worth. It is in God's heart. It has been there all along. He is my strength, my shield, my banner and my value.

So my apologies to Prov for all the wrong assumptions. You know what they say when you assume. To my fellow strong women, let's remember what worth is. Worth is merely the fullest extent of one's value and ability. Only God know what that fullest extent is. I do know He won't let us extend past what we are capable of. As for me and my house, I will remember my worth and that in God's eyes, I am more valuable than rubies, even when I don't feel like it. I aspire to live and love each day with no paybacks, determined to see God's best in the people I love. I will bear in mind that each pain, setback, trial and heartache is simply a new spiritual muscle being developed and forged. I will hold fast when the ones I love are ready to let go. I will not be like Prov, but I will be like the strong, able and worthy woman God has designed and fashioned me to be. I am a force to be reckoned with. And that is where my worth springs. It isn’t a man that finds your worth. Your children aren’t looking for your worth. And you can’t create your worth. It is God that knows your worth and determines your value. It is in God’s heart that I have my worth and my virtue. And that is well with my soul.

“So do you think you know me now, Susan?”

“Oh. Hi, Prov. How’s your day?” How I wanted to hide from this woman. She had to know all the things I said about her.

“So I heard through the grapevine I have issues.”

Sheepishly I looked at this woman whose mighty acts had tormented me for so long. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. And I am really sorry about the whole toilet paper comment. I have only toilet papered one house and that was my sister Tanya’s home so it doesn’t really count.”

“Susan, when you look at me, what do you see?”

“I see a complete, happy, and fulfilled woman who does everything right.”

“No wonder I’m irritating to you.” Throwing her perfectly manicured head back, an uncontrollable laugh tore from within her. The laugh was short-lived because she soon looked directly at me with a cold, penetrating stare. “Is that really all you see? You see what I have and what I do and that is who I am? Do you think I became that kind of woman after I was married? You have the single woman syndrome.”

“Thank for the reminder, Prov. I almost forgot I was single for a moment.”

“Watch the sarcasm please. So many women think they are made whole after the marriage when in truth if you are not whole before you walk down the aisle you will never be complete. I love my husband body, heart, soul and spirit. He is second after God in my life. Then come my children. How I adore them. My family is my life. As much I am passionate about them, that is not where my life started. They are not what made me whole, Susan. You are not the only one with a past. I was single at one time too. Wondering when my life would start. The wedding to my husband wasn’t the wedding that made me a virtuous woman. That wedding didn’t cause my life to begin.”

“Prov, I have so many questions. What were you like before you were married? When did your life stop being about you and start being about others? Do you ever sleep? What was your past? I am sorry for assumptions I made, but I have to know how did you become who you are today?”

“Susan, I became the wife and mother I am because I am a “hem of His garment” kind of gal.”

“I don’t get it. Can you explain some…”

“You know, Susan, if you would just be quiet for a moment I would get to it. Let me explain.”

“There is a woman in the Bible I have come to identify with. Like me she didn’t have a name except for the one that describes her. I am called the Virtuous woman, she was called the Unclean woman. Even though most people have trouble accepting it, I was in the same position as her. No one knew my worth. I too struggled, wondering if no one recognized my worth, was I still worthy? I was overlooked.
“Look at Unclean for a moment. No one attached importance to her because of her situation. No one saw her. She was not distinguished by another living soul. As women, we all yearn for someone to set us apart, to mark us with greatness. That is what a distinguished woman is - someone who has been deemed worthy and set apart from all others. That is why we pine to be married. We want it to be evident that we are cherished. We want to be picked out of the crowd.

“Here is this woman. She is different alright, but not in the way that we crave. The Bible says she was ‘diseased with an issue of blood.’ For 12 years she suffered with this hemorrhage. In Matthew 5:26 it says she suffered a great deal under the care of doctors. I can only imagine the painful treatments they tried. She spent all that she had in the despondent hopes of being healed. Every woman reads this and her first thought is, ‘Did she have cramps for 12 years too?’ I am telling you right now, the pain she felt in her body, in no way compared to the throbbing ache in her heart and soul.

“In Mark 5 it says ‘there was a certain woman…’ One of those ‘kind’ of women. All women at one time or another have had that label, but she lived with that stigma for 12 years. She was a Jewish woman. She knew the commandments and so did all around her. In Leviticus 15:25-33 it is commanded that a woman with a flow of blood is considered unclean. That meant she was ceremonially tainted. She was contaminated. She was dirty water. She couldn’t go to the temple and worship. She couldn’t gather with others on the Sabbath. She wasn’t allowed inside the gate. The doors were closed to her. Not just the gates to the temple, but the gates to marriage and a family. The Bible doesn’t tell us what her life was like before everything changed. If she was married, I could only assume that she was single by the time she came forward in the Bible. What man would wait 12 years for a woman before he could have sexual relations with her again?

“In my Spirit, I believe she had never been married. She was probably in her 30s like you, Susan. Imagine what she was going through. Did she long to be a wife? To have that one person that knows her completely? Did she have a picture of the man that she wanted to be the last person she said good night to and the first person she said good morning? Did she hunger to be held in the cold night? Did she hope against hope that she could be a mother? To be the only person that could kiss a scratch and make it better for her child?

“Not only did she endure the absence of a husband’s love and closeness, but she probably never had the close friendships that women are designed to have. Did she have a group of women friends that no matter the occasional arguments, they were bonded and a sisterhood, always there for each other? In all probability, no. The women most likely shunned her too. What must have been worse for her? The tenderness in her abdomen or the piercing sting of loneliness that kept at her like a Ugandan mosquito.
“When this plague started 12 years ago, she believed one day it too shall pass, but as time went on I assume the hope within her started to die. As the years went on, her hopes, dreams, and expectations were abandoned in the uncaring dust. Carrying them would have been too big of a burden. At some point she probably started to accept her fate as an outcast, as an unclean woman. She was broken. She was an out of order woman. Her uncleanness had shattered her. She was defeated and dejected. The daydreams she had as a young woman were crushed and there was no pot of gold at the end of her rainbow.

“She spent every day alone. She was ignored and overlooked. This beautiful woman was disregarded because she was incomplete. No one saw her beauty, they only saw what was wrong with her. And, Susan, that is not just a single woman’s nightmare, but as a married woman there is nothing worse than being unseen and invisible to your husband. We all crave to be distinguished. Some women are married but they are unnoticed. Every married woman experiences moments, days or even years of invisibility.
“What happened to this crestfallen woman that made her attempt something that was unheard of. As women, we have a breaking point. She had hit hers. The Bible says she heard about Jesus. What did she hear that made her come to him that fateful day? Did the stories of the healings move her? Was it the fact that He called Matthew, a despicable tax collector to be His disciple that gave her hope? Maybe the calming of the storm influenced her actions and boldness. I believe she heard Jesus speak about a lamp on the stand. Jesus said no one lights a lamp and hides it under a bed. You put it on a stand so that you can see the light. This woman had a light inside of her, but because of her condition, it was not seen. It was hidden. No one saw the radiance inside of her that she greatly wanted to display. She was that invisible woman that wanted to be noticed.

“‘Maybe,’ was her thought. In Mark 5:28 it says, ‘she thought…’ Some translations say ‘she said to herself.’ The word used means to lay forth, speak out, to call out. Something in her broke that day and she laid forth all her hopes on who Jesus is. She put her hope out on a ledge. ‘Just maybe. I have tried everything and have only gotten worse. Perhaps He can fix me. He can make me whole. I am at the end of me. I give up. He is my last hope.” She thought to herself that if she just touched His clothes she would be healed. It wasn’t just a healing she was after. She believed at that moment she could be made whole. She too can be saved and protected. Just maybe by touching His garment, she would be complete and intact finally. Perhaps she too can be someone’s wife and mother. How she visualized being unbroken and undamaged.

“The Bible says that she came up behind Him, because that is what an invisible woman does, and touched His garment. She didn’t merely lay a hand on His clothing, but the word used means she attached herself to His garment. She fastened onto Him. She did that day what brides vow to do at their wedding: to cleave to her husband. To cling and remain faithful to him. She was grasping a hold to who Jesus was and is.

“It wasn’t just His dirty hem that she fastened herself to. She grabbed onto the tassel of His garment. The Jewish men wore something called a tzitzit. In Numbers 16 God commands the Israelite men to wear them on the corners of their garments. It was to be a reminder to them to obey Him and to commit to memory that He is the Lord their God. But I believe it is more than that. God had ulterior motives. The tzitzit represented God’s Word and His commandments. They stood for His blessings and promises. They symbolized where God’s people had come from and where they were going. When God gave this commandment they weren’t told to hide them, but tie them on the outer edges of their garments where they were accessible. Why? Because I believe God was thinking of this woman that day He gave the command. He wanted those tzitzits to be within reach for this forlorn and unclean woman. Here was Jesus, the walking fulfillment of every commandment, every promise and every blessing. And all that was made within reach for her. That is what she reached for. It wasn’t the garment that would make her whole, but who God is. That is what she attached herself to. She knew she was facing death for what she did. She knew what the commandments said, but she also understood God’s heart. She saw God’s heart living in this man from Nazareth. She was clinging to God.

“From the moment she attached herself to Him, she was physically healed, but Jesus wasn’t done with her yet. Jesus was surrounded by a mob that day. His disciples were perplexed why He would ask who touched him. They could have answered, ‘Any one of the thousand surrounding you, Jesus. Take your pick.” You see Jesus used that same word that meant to attach oneself to. Every one was tapping Him like He was a rock star, but only this incomplete woman truly touched Him. They all wanted to feel Him, but she wanted to know Him.

“In Mark 5:32 the NIV leaves out of an important word. This word is my favorite in the Bible. It is the utterly remarkable word ‘but.’ His disciples tell Him it is asinine to find out who touched Him. ‘But Jesus kept looking.’ She never expected to get his attention. She thought she could touch Him, get healed and finally start her life. She just wanted to be made whole; being noticed wasn’t even a hope for her. She was so used to going unnoticed, BUT Jesus sees what others miss. He saw her. At last someone looked her way. In Luke 8:47 it said she saw that she couldn’t go unnoticed. What a strange and foreign sensation that just have been to her. For 12 years she was ignored and now here is Jesus, His disciples and this large crowd staring at her. This was center stage. She came trembling to Him and fell at His feet. She couldn’t hide. In front of the world, she told Him what she had done. Was she ashamed at that moment? Was she terrified of what He would think of her?

“Jesus says a weird thing. He says, ‘go and be freed from your suffering.’ She was already healed. Why tell her to go and be freed from her suffering if she already has been restored to health? You see, Jesus was saying, ‘Go and be whole. Give yourself wholly to being complete. Walk as a whole woman. You are no longer who the world says you are. Walk that way.’

“Jesus didn’t need to call her out. She would have been averagely content with just the physical healing. Jesus didn’t want her walking as that unclean woman anymore. The word ‘whole’ actually means to increase. He wanted her to rise into the woman He saw when He looked at her. We get healed at the hem of Jesus, but we still carry around our past like a badge that is permanently tattooed to us. Like the prisoners at Auswitz who had their ID number tattooed to their forearm, are you wearing a symbol of who you used to be? As women, we wear those badges like a brooch: unclean, adulterer, whore, liar, thief, mistake, criminal, addict, failure. He wanted her to know that He distinguished her that day. She was marked for life from that point on. She was marked for greatness. She was marked for increase in her life.

“Do you realize what was beyond doubt the greatest part of this miracle? This was her wedding day. This was the day she married her Redeemer. When she cleaved to Him, the way a wife cleaves to her husband, she became a bride. And when Jesus called her out and distinguished her and placed value on her, she became a wife. When you were a silly teenager, Susan, you dreamed about the perfect wedding. There was a beautiful dress, a tastefully decorated church and you were designated as an exquisite bride. You would envision the boy of your dreams dedicating a romantic song to you on the radio. It was probably Joe Cocker’s “You Are So Beautiful to Me.” A woman’s true wedding day isn’t like that. This woman was probably dirty, very plain so she wouldn’t call attention to herself. Her self-esteem clothed her in an ugly outfit. Yet when she was trembling and at the feet of Jesus, she was the most beautiful creature He had ever beheld. Looking down at her, I imagine Jesus singing that song to her. “You are so beautiful to me. You are everything I need, everything I came for.” As she stood up, her status changed. Like in a wedding, when the pastor declares and announces, ‘I give you Mr. and Mrs. Anderson,” her name was forever changed. She was made whole. She was finally unbroken and complete.

“To the men, this is what Paul meant when he said you are to love your wife as Christ loved the church. You are to give your wife a status change. She is exchanged from the invisible, flawed woman that she was to the woman who is noticed and presented without stain and without wrinkle. You didn’t buy her, you simply changed her significance. You have given her a new name, a new designation. You are called to see in her what others miss.

“Single women are not weak for wanting to be married. It is one of the calls on our life. As women we are the example God has made to show the world what the bride of Christ should look like. God wants us all, men and women both, to have an intense hunger and yearning like this woman to be His. To be marked by Him. To be set apart for Him. To yearn for a status change in His eyes. When was the last time you wanted to cling to God as much as you wanted to be attached to a husband?

“It is interesting that after He healed this woman, Jesus was called to bring to life a dead 12 year-old girl. Whether it is a physical death or emotional death we are facing, Jesus is the answer. God is our Restorer. Jesus told the dead little girl to get up. He told the Unclean woman to get up and go. A hem of His garment type of woman is the one that gets up and walks as a woman with a status change. So get up. You are restored and healed. You are made whole. Get up. Come back to the hem when you need to, but get up and walk. Your faith in what you reached for has healed you and made you whole. I became a hem of His garment kind of woman before I was married and I am now praised because my life starts at the hem. That is what enables me to do what I do. I live each day desperate to cleave to the hem of His garment. My life starts at the hem. My hopes spring from the hem. I am strengthened and fortified by the hem. My status changed at the hem. Go and be a hem of His garment woman.

“Let’s get together again soon. You need to realize you are Tabernacle property, but that is a whole other discussion.”

March 18, 2008

I don’t know where to begin to describe the past few weeks. It has been a gaggle of emotions and experiences; tears and joy, laughter and wonderment. To start, I have to admit I am missing my family. I am not homesick; I am at home, but nonetheless, I miss them terribly.

Now as you read how much “I miss” you, one would get the idea that I am homesick and desperate to be back in the land of plumbing and traffic lights. When I say “I miss you” it is in the sense that I feel the absence of you all. Everyday I experience something and I think to myself, “If only this person could see this.” “My nephews would get a kick out of this.” For example, in the past four months I have heard more Michael Bolton and Lionel Richie songs from the 80s than I did in elementary school, and think of my sisters, “Remember that song? It’s finally getting a lot of airplay.” I feel your absence from my daily existence. I wish I could call you at night and tell you what I experience in the course of my day. For the first time in my life I am truly aching to be married so that there is a person I can share all that with at the end of the day.

I miss you. I feel your absence. Yet, my heart is full. It is overflowing with joy, peace and love. I give it out freely and it is given back to me by the people who have come into my life. In the song, “How Great Thou Art,” a verse is, “then sings my soul…” Before the past few weeks, I have never heard my soul sing the song it has claimed as an anthem. My soul has a beautiful melody that it sings at the top of its lungs. Everyday I find myself singing without provocation of music. It sings Psalm 31:14-15, “ I trust in you, Lord. You are my God. My life is in your hands.” It sings Amos 9:11, “God will repair your fallen tent. God will repair my broken places, restore my ruins and build it as He sees fit.” It sings Psalm 4:7, “God has filled my heart with greater joy than when grain and new wine abound.” My soul sings with praise Habakkuk 1:5 “I see with utter amazement all that God is doing.” My soul cries in worship Isaiah 55:13, “My God sees the pine tree in me when the world saw the thornbush.” So sings my soul.

I AM IN LOVE
His name is Colin. At first he was very standoffish, almost like he didn’t like me or was angry with me even though we just met. Very much the strong silent type! He is beautiful yet makes these horrid faces at times as if he is battling something that no one understands. Something changed and out of nowhere he started hugging me and sitting on my lap. He is slightly enamored with the color of my skin and tries to peak under my shirt to see if I am white throughout. He reminds me of Jeff, my nephew. You never know when he will break out in a smile and uncontrolled giggles and then makes weird faces.
Unfortunately, I am also in love with Joseph. He has the face of an angel and is so loving. He is also very smart. Even though he can’t speak, he understands and figures out a way to communicate with me. There is also Miss Immaculate, Gloria, Jude, Agnes, the two Elijahs, and Nicholas.
I prayed for a long time to have God set up my ministry work here with a plan and purpose. He has put me where He wants me. On Monday mornings, I spent five hours with the new loves of my life at the Elizabeth House. It is a school for disabled children where they learn how to take care of themselves, but most importantly experience love. These beautiful children deal with autism, Down’s Syndrome, and cerebral palsy. Some walk, some talk and the others don’t do either. Africa is not like the Western world where there is education and caring for children like them. The parents often times forget about them or drop them off at the side of the road. When the kids first start coming to Elizabeth House they are beyond dirty. Some never learned things like going to the bathroom and no one showed them and others are physically unable to learn and no one helped them. They are also very angry. They have never been shown love. Often times parents of these precious angels think they are a curse or bewitching and want nothing to do with them.
I arrive at the house around 8:30 and the first thing I get is hugs and more hugs. I have never felt so much love in my heart or from their hearts. It’s funny but there are no communication problems between me and these kids. I don’t need an interpreter with them. All I do is play with them and it is enough. I see God at that place. I see God in those children. When I play house with them, I am playing with Jesus.
Miss Immaculate is a powerhouse dynamo that is in charge even though she is only six. She is loving and demanding. I usually ask her permission before I do anything. She is a hurt puppy that needs love even though she doesn’t admit it. Then there is Gloria who is about 8. She is a shining beauty. There is something within her that sparkles and radiates out of every action, hug and smile. It shines from her eyes. She can’t speak and only just learned to walk, yet she understands everything I say. She is brilliant as Einstein and as the brightest star. I adore her.
There is Agnes who is just a bucket of joy that is overturned and spills out. She is usually on the floor or tied to a chair yet that doesn’t bother her and diminish her smile. I love holding her and just hanging with her. Her cohort is usually Nicholas who is in the same condition. He can’t speak to me but we speak anyway. Where his legs are weak, he has the arms of a commando. He grab a hold of my leg and I usually go down. He is a tender heart with biceps of steel.
I can’t forget Jude. He would like to be in charge but knows better than to challenge Miss Immaculate. He is five and is just learning how to accept love. He isn’t comfortable hugging yet. He loves to play. He reminds a little of my nephew Zachary because he is shy, but underneath the shyness is a loving heart.
Then there is Baby Elijah. He seems older than his 1 ½ years. Inside him is a man of 40. They are training him to walk with a walker. He loves to sit in my lap or cuddle in my arms and I fight the temptation to put him in my backpack and bring him home.
I didn’t expect to lose my heart in a disabled children’s school. I didn’t expect God to move in the way He has, but I am thankful He was faithful to His expectations and not mine. What I had planned does not compare to what God has pieced together and what is coming down the pike.

A RHYTHM
Like I wrote, I asked God for guidance and the plan. I got it. There is always room to negotiate and change as God has made that abundantly clear to me. I am open to change and adaptation. Mondays mornings I am at Elizabeth House. From there I head to God’s Centre of Blessings Church. I had been praying for a church to attend where I can be a blessing but also be ministered to. This is what God gave me and I am so thankful. Pastor Steven Mugwanya is an awesome man of God with a passionate heart and love for Jesus’ sheep. He is tall and silent. I never know what he is thinking. He never lets emotion show on the surface. I spend Monday and Friday afternoons at the church teaching computer skills at their adult education center. I am also helping them build websites for the church and school. I feel safe and loved at the church. If I am not preaching somewhere on Sundays, I am there. I still visit and preach at churches, I am anxious to get back to my Full Gospel Church.
On Tuesdays I am studying the Word for the most part. Thursdays are my day to relax and get stuff done that I need.
Wednesdays have become a big surprise. In January my friend introduced me to Pastor Anthony and Rhoda of Family Life Center Church and after the first time preaching there I was determined not to return. God had other plans. The church at the time was just “tired.” The fire had gone out. The church has plenty of matches, but a striking pad was needed. Me. This tired church has crept into my heart and has awaken not only themselves, but me too. On Wednesdays we evangelize in the neighborhood. That means sharing the Gospel, praying with people, or just showing God’s love in action. It is also challenging because like last Wednesday my partner Stephen and I was invited into the home of a Moslem who wanted to debate. It was 40 minutes of “interesting” conversation. My partner is always Stephen. He is around my age and the first time we went he was quiet and shy for the first 20 minutes then something came to life and he is an evangelizing machine. There is also a pastor in him. He has become a dear friend.
After the door 2 door, I head down the street to an AIDS clinic and am just volunteering where they need me. It is heartbreaking to a whole another degree. One child I met there is 10. Her mother died of AIDS and her father made her the new “wife” in every way. She has AIDS. The times there are just starting and for now too hard to write about.
Fridays are my most challenging and fulfilling day. IT starts at Dr. Daniel’s Clinic teaching the Word of God and is followed by individual counseling and prayer. The next four are spent at God’s Centre doing classes and whatever else God puts in my path. At four I head to the Family Life Church for a leadership class I am teaching. It is always anointed. They are hungry and on fire for all that God has for them. Anthony and Rhoda have become dear friends and their beautiful children call me “Auntie.”
Friday nights I either go home or go to overnight prayer services. I LOVE OVERNIGHTS!!!!! They ROCK! You pray through. And when you are through, it is so amazing!
Saturdays are spent as a Sabbath and I attend the service Mike teaches at the house. Starting this coming Saturday I will be helping at the Kampala Pentecostal (KPC) Church children’s program that is across the alley from the house. I met the elder there this week and I have been asked to teach. They have great kids in the program. There is one girl named Valerina who has become attached to my side. She just seems to hunger for love and affection. I am more than happy to share all that I have.
My week is busy, but God is always giving me my times of rest to rest in Him. I am learning that the words, “then sings my soul” is what I am living out here. I go to the Elizabeth House and my soul sings and pours out. I walk around a village with hope and grace in my holster as my soul sings of how great God is. My soul, my very being, the very breath and life and love that God bestowed on me and in me, is sung and poured out in action. This song doesn’t have an end, but maybe a few rewrites as God envisions.
I am tired. It has been a long Sunday and I need to recharge my body for the day ahead. Another day of my soul singing. Another chance to teach someone else how to make their soul sing. Another glorious opportunity to see how great God is. May your soul sing today and everyday. May the melody spill forth in all of God’s gloriousness. Let your soul sing. Let your soul sing.

His Clay,
Susan

February 21, 2008

ONLY IN UGANDA

I am so anxious to write this email, but the flood of words I have to share have created a traffic jam in my head that rivals the chaos of Kampala gridlock. So as my thoughts spill forth, just let them come and prayerfully at the end, the jumble of reflections will somehow make sense.
I wonder if there will ever be a time when I am no longer mystified by this crazy beautiful country. Will there be a time where I don’t wake up and ask the question, “God, in what ways will You utterly amaze me today?” Will I get to the point where I no longer desperately hunger to be part of God’s masterful plan in this land? Will there be a day where seeing the actual figs on the fig tree and grapes on the vines are more important than rejoicing in what is not seen? If ever these things happen, I will pack up my memories and dust-crusted clothing and head back to the States. I am beyond thankful that every morning is a new day full of surprises that only God could make happen. I am thankful that I don’t need to see the figs and grapes to rejoice in the Lord. I am blessed that I am a worker in this majestic and astonishing plan of divine appointments and meetings.
I am fascinated by the craziness and lack of normalcy that is unrestrained in Uganda . In our yard, one tree is in the midst of autumn with gold and red leaves falling where they will, while another tree is sprouting the early buds of spring. I am baffled by the consistency of the sun and moon patrols. Sitting on the equator, the sun refuses us the glorious light of day until seven am and the incandescent moon shies away from center stage until 7:15 pm sharp. With the sun and moon so uniformly punctual, perhaps the perpetual tardiness that is rampant is the most effective balancer between nature and man.
It is a tropical climate, but only in Uganda would God give us the beautiful heat followed by the always cool night, occasionally throwing in a whole day of cold rain. Uganda is conceivably the only country on this continent where “ Africa hot” does not apply to its weather report.
Only in Uganda can the words of wisdom that adorn signs and buildings make sense. As you go about your day, here is a real nugget of wisdom: “When the wind blows, the fowl’s rump is exposed.” I have no idea what that means, but I am it is profound on some level. Perhaps only in Uganda .
And that is just for starters. Only in Uganda can spiders fly and jump. Only in Uganda is it inappropriate for a woman to wear short skirts and shorts, but completely proper to change your clothing in front of large groups of people and bath on the side of the road. Only in Uganda would a bar be called “Soberz Up.” Only in Uganda would God truly astound my common sense and love of detail with irrational absurdity and complete lack of order. Yesterday at the visa office, we were in a room with stacks of papers and files that had no rhyme or reason. In fact Mike’s application was lost in the infinite clutter. How my old self desired to take on the mammoth heaps and subject it to alphabetization, but my Ugandan counterpart was happy with the hodgepodge of documents.
Only in Uganda would Edith and I become friends with two women who share no visible common ground with us. On one of our daily walks about the ‘hood, we came upon them standing outside their home holding a beautiful baby. After the nonchalant “Hi, how are you?” greetings, we stopped ourselves from progressing and committed to a conversation. They invited us into their home where we sat and talked for an hour. Thus started this unique and unexpected friendship.
Rsmed and Saima, with her baby Fatima, are sister-in-laws and Moslems from Pakistan . Their husbands have a car import business here. When we have time, we stop by and chat, eat Pakistani food and enjoy each other’s company. We start these girl talks that leave us giggling and red-faced. We have never mentioned the Gospel of Jesus Christ to these Moslem women other than to say we are missionaries and Mike is a pastor. On our last visit, in the middle of a conversation about Indian movies, Saima spoke up and asked, “What’s the Bible?” They have asked for prayer, even when we first met. We are choosing our words carefully, following God’s leading. It is not by our efforts but by His.
Only in Uganda is American’s concept of uncouth considered refined and polished. I was sitting in the restaurant of Jokas Hotel killing time until my next teaching “gig.” Seated around me were government officials attending some all-important conference in their suits and ties. One man was brave enough to ask to join me. I enjoyed hearing about his work and the smile on his face caused by the forthcoming ribbing he would receive from his counterparts for sitting with the muzungu woman. Next to us sat a group of the head honchos, eating their chicken and matooke. Nothing out of the ordinary until I saw the man closest to me spit out his chicken bones. Not into a napkin or his hand, but onto the floor. Maybe he was choking, I thought. Obviously, most of them were choking, because they all did it, even the few women present. My Grandmother would have had a heart attack at the sight. Apparently there isn’t a Ugandan Emily Post.
Only in Uganda would God take such delight and care in finding ways to blow my expectations out of the water and amaze me in new and intangible ways. I came to Uganda with preconceived notions of what God wanted me to do, even though I professed that I was open to anything. I was open to my own defined plan that I was sure God was preparing to my specifications. I have never heard God laugh so much than the past three months. Two to three times a week I minister and teach at a clinic called Daniel’s Healthcare Centre. I wasn’t expecting this hospital or its people to come barging into my Ugandan existence and take up residency in my heart. I love how God takes my commonplace notions as I hand them to Him, reads them, smiles while trying to suppress laughter, then crumples them up and throws them haphazardly over His shoulder. “OK, Susan, now here’s my plan, you can’t be amazed by what you assume. Let me amaze you with what I envision.” Then He takes me by the shoulders and turns me towards His purposed direction.
The first week at the house with Mike and Edith, I wanted to attend a bible study he was teaching. I was compelled and stirred to go. I thought the great necessity to accompany him was to battle boredom. The moment I stepped in the hospital I felt the rousing of my spirit telling me, “This is where I am supposed to be.” From that day on, my daily Ugandan life has never been the same.
Now when I say hospital, I mean it is an in-progress hospital, with only the first floor being semi-completed and the shell of the other four floors roughly hewned in. Outer walls are optional in places.
It is the people here that have captured my heart and my energy. There is Doctor Daniel himself. He is inquisitive, intelligent and incredibly anointed. He became Born Again at his daughter’s wedding two years ago. There is always a sermon in the ceremony, but for some reason the pastor did an altar call. I believe the altar call was meant just for Doc. In building of his hospital, God put it on his heart to hold a fellowship bible study for the staff since they too were one by one becoming born again. He lets them take sometimes three hours off on Friday mornings to attend. He is also there. I believe in interaction when I teach and the Doc is a questioner. I love his challenging questions and insightful comments. They are all famished and eager for more of God’s Word and to know how they live their faith. On Thursdays I teach the women only as we talk about what a woman of God is like and other “women stuff.” This past Monday the men requested their own session to get a women’s perspective on how a man of God should live and treat women. I got to train men! Hallelujah! I have never been more nervous and excited at the same time.
After the bible study I get the opportunity to pray for patients and any of the staff who need someone to listen and guide them. First there is Gretti. She is a beautiful 22 year old nurse. She has a smile that could like up any dark neighborhood. On Friday, as I taught she sat directly in front of me. It was the first day I noticed how petite she was, but she still had a really big stomach. Then it dawned on me, she’s pregnant. She knew the moment I figured it out and I watched her squirm and sink lower into the bench. She tried to disappear afterwards, but I caught her arm before she could escape. She is pregnant, the man is not a part of her life and her family won’t talk to her. She had no intention of telling me about the baby until after she gave birth because she couldn’t bear one more person telling her what she did wrong. Like any of us, she knew her mistakes before the world told her. She cried tears of gratefulness as I offered to sit with her during labor. My one condition is that I get to be Auntie Susan. She is due in March. While some would say she was a sinner and start preaching, but God is calling me to speak the Gospel in action. Jesus wouldn’t belittle or condemn, but sit holding her hand with each new labor pain. I want to be more like Jesus.
Then there is Margaret. She is around my age and the mother of four beautiful children. When I met her, she sat through the study in despondent cries of a mother who had lost all hope. In the past two years, she has had to give her children to the fathers to raise them. She had lost everything and without education could not get a job to support them. With guilt and shame, she told me how she had multiple “husbands” never loving her or taking care of her like her heart secretly craved. I sat with this woman at the well in her small room. Doctor Daniel provided her with a job and a place to live as she spiritually rebuilds her tents. She was tormented during the night by nightmares and fear. Please notice the past tense. God has taken and cast away those fears, those nightmares, those dark nights and filled her with a peace and hope that the sun will once again rise. Every time I see her, there is more unswerving faith and a bigger smile. She knows that God is a God who hears her when she calls to Him. She will be one of His biggest success stories.
There is a young man named Isaac who looks 16 but is around 25 and married. He has a yearning heart for God that cannot be quenched. He puts into practice what he learns. He doesn’t just read the Bible, but puts faith into action. There is story after story in this hospital that I am trying to unearth. It is a gold mine, rich in heavenly treasures. The pine trees disguised as thorn bushes abound here.
Another twist in the plan I wasn’t expecting was Pastor Anthony and his wife Rhoda of Kireka Family Life Church. It is a big building, but small in number. I preached one Sunday and had to fight with God about the message. I prepared a message the night before, but as I spoke God gave me a new one and it was the kind I didn’t want to speak on my first visit. I was scared and intimidated to deliver it, but you know how God can be like a four year-old child, needling you in your side until giving in is your only option. I’m not sure, but I might have stomped my feet and shouted, “Fine. Fine. Fine! I will do it Your way.” If I did do that, they were too polite to say so or scared that I was a lunatic muzungu. After the service both Anthony and his wife came to me in tears because it needed to be said. I spent the rest of the day with them having lunch and talking. First I listened as Anthony poured out his fears and concerns. Then I walked with Rhoda as she shared her heart and the troubles only a fellow woman could understand. A week later, Anthony came to the house and once again he vented to a willing ear. The propensity to be a loving husband and father is combated by a childhood that did not know love. I didn’t expect ministering to pastors. I assumed discipling the flocks was the plan. Who am I to minister to pastors? It is not “Who am I to do this?” but “Who my God is and what He has premeditated, enabling me to climb the heights.”
Only in Uganda does the most beautiful of sanctuaries have holes in the roof. On the way home from the taxi stop, the sounds of praise and worship filtered through the dark air and beckoned me to join. So I left Edith at the door and ventured across the alleyway to the most exquisite church in all of Africa . This almost one acre property is inhabited by our dear friends Tom, Juliet and their children Andrew, Ebenezer, Simon Peter and Hope. God has called them to start a church on this property He gave them. During the day they make bricks from the plentiful earth with the intention to sell half and build with the other. They live in a doorless shack on one corner and in the center is this superb structure where on Wednesday nights they fellowship. This building has no walls but a few planks and poles that hold up the flimsy tin roof. During worship I hold my aerosol can filled with beans and beaten to a pulp to create a Ugandan shaker. At one point I looked at the star-filled star lighting us with the shimmering moonlight. On the table serving as the centerpiece were the catatonic flowers that Miss Edith rescued from a neighbor’s trash and presented to Juliet. When we gave them to her, it never occurred to her that they were already half-dead and the basket falling apart. In her eyes it was the most fragrant and elegant of roses in a golden vase. This family is a gift from God. They are prayer partners, study participants, and examples for us to follow.
Only in Uganda would God use me to make a mute speak. Let me explain. I have a new friend by the name of Jeffrey (everytime I say his name I think of my nephew of the same name). He is 25 and has shut himself off from the world. A few years ago in college, everything changed for the once talkative and outgoing young man. No one knows what caused the change. He no longer socializes, doesn’t speak unless spoken to and tries to only communicate with grunts and one syllable words if possible. For some reason, he will speak to me. It seems crazy, but I took him out to lunch on Valentines Day. This was not my old idea of what would constitute a perfect Valentines Day. This lovely holiday no longer only signifies the love of a man for me, but the love of a Father that forgets my wrongs and uses me in unusual and bewildering ways. I no longer want to receive love on Valentines Day, but to give it away unrestrained as He has done for me.
So we met at a local store we both could find. He was actually early! For Ugandans that is a novel concept. His mother had texted me worried he wouldn’t show up. She was beyond shocked that he was there. Then we sat and had lunch and ice cream at a place called Taste Buds. I had planned on having to carry the conversation, but to my surprise, he talked more than I did. He even asked me questions. Afterward, we boarded a taxi and went to my house so he could meet Mike and Edith. On the way there, he was even protective of me. Everyone in Uganda things muzungus has no clue how to cross a street.
We talked about God, the Bible, our families, football. I never once brought up his problems, but he did. I actually had a good time. More importantly he did too. He even invited me to go to church with him one day.
God works in mysterious ways. Those mysterious ways circled all around us that day. Isaiah 35:6 says the mute tongue will shout for joy. Mark 7:37 says Jesus makes the deaf hear and the mute speak. Only in Uganda would that come into true context. Jesus is making the clamp on Jeffrey’s heart release so he once again can speak and communicate. The cause isn’t important, it’s the outcome where Jesus shines. And when it says He makes the deaf hear, He was talking about me. My determined planning and expectations had made me deaf to His voice for so much of my life. Only here, has the earplugs been permanently removed and I can hear His voice. He has disabled the mute button in my brain.
Only in Uganda can the vine that wraps around the razor blade fencing, be dead, but made whole again with bright flowers sprouting on lifeless branches. This vine reminds me of Reagan, a young man that attends Mike’s bible college. He has suffered in ways that are unmentionable. He has experimented and crashed. But along the way, he realized God wasn’t going to let him go. He surrendered to Jesus and is now rebuilding on the foundation God started when He created him. He is the vine that is once again alive and sprouting. The old is being cut away and replaced.
Only in Uganda would I meet my closest friend that actually is from Colorado . She is around 70 physically but has the heart and soul of a 30 year-old. Her name is Edith. She is a gift from God. She is my walking partner, the person who lets me cry about my broken heart, my collaborator when it comes to doing the work God calls us to do, the one who has enough guts to rebuke me when I am out of line with the Word of God and my preferred laughing cohort. She is the friend I wish I had in high school and college. Every day you are around her, you find something else to admire, from her God escapades to how she takes care of her husband.
Only in Uganda would I have to learn to “get over it” in a major way. I have battled doubt, uncertainty and mishaps. I have learned in abundance how to uncap the spring of hope that is in heaven that brings forth faith and love in me. I have learned faith in the eye of the storm. I have felt the sprays of water of the Red Sea as God has held back the roaring force as I walked through the wet walls. I have learned that trust and confidence in God’s provision is a choice I make every day. I learned how to rely when I have never had the trust to rely before. Reliance is a different ballgame when you depend confidently on the one person who will never let you down. God is the only thing that never fails.
Only in Uganda does the sign at my beautiful friend Krista’s house speak volumes to me: It’s time to pull on the big girl pants! What does that mean? Well, for starters, as women we have an invisible strength that can’t be earned by more push-ups or crunches. It can’t be bought in the newest pill. It is a gift of God that moves us, it is our feminine brawn. It is the unseen might that empowered Ruth to not look back as she gave up all she knew. It is the covert power that made Esther know an orphan could be a queen and save her people. It is the indiscernible vigor that sustained Leah, leading her to finally realize God could love her where Jacob failed. It is the unseen tonicity that allowed Bathsheba to pick up the pieces and keep going no matter what had transpired. I am invisibly powerful. Underneath this African skirt, I have on the figurative Wonder Woman leotard and go-go boots. My golden lasso is in my backpack in the form of God’s Word. I don’t need the stealth one-seat jet, I have boda bodas and taxis.
Only in Uganda can a flower change its mind. The bush with the lovely and fragrant purple flowers seemed to wake up one morning and decide they looked better in white. So one by one they are transforming themselves into something greater than they thought. I am like one of those flowers. What I thought was my best, was just that – my best. Here I am becoming God’s best. It brings my finest God qualities and uncovers the raw talent that God gave unbeknownst to me. I thank God I have crashed and burned to what I thought was the plan. It was then that God said, “Now we can get started.”
Only in Uganda could I meet a new friend by the name of Henry who is the African equivalent of Arnold Scharzenegger. He is a gentle giant that is on fire for God. Walking with him as he took me to lunch the other day, I couldn’t help but feel safe. No one would be stupid enough to mess with this muzungu with him around. His sheer size and strength offers physical protection, but it is the spiritual protection he sent me the other night by text that is truly his gift. His text read: “This is for you, read it any day, any moment – Psalm 63.” It isn’t just a Psalm. It is a confession of desperate and avid longing for God’s security and boundless joy that can only come in His sanctuary. The writer was in the desert in the darkest of night, when only a three am prayer would help. Yet in the midst of night’s danger, there is joy and safety in God’s sanctuary. It’s not in a church building or in the nicest of hotels. It is the sanctuary He offers in the midst of the storms. The writer had been in that place before and longed for it again. The longing gives way to joy. I don’t need to see the joy or experience it in the physical to know it is coming. I know in the darkest of nights, when the day stops and all that I had fought to suppress and ignore comes bubbling up to the surface; that the fears, the regrets, the questions and tears will not overtake me. I have seen God’s shelter; I have been in God’s safe haven. I have seen God’s power and glory. His love is better than anything life tries to entertain me with. My soul is satisfied as if it has been nourished by the best cheeseburger in the world. Inside my tented mosquito net I remember God and His promises. I remember His faithfulness and love. In that refuge, I sing. I sing in the shadow of His protection. I cling to Him like a baby and it is Him who sustains me. Defends me. Encourages me. Protects me. It is in His arms that I rest. It is in His arms that I cry and am comforted. I know God’s sanctuary and that is where my hope springs eternal. It is not what the world holds that sustains me or gives me satisfaction, it is in Him that my heart sings.
Only in Uganda do the words unrestrained, undiminished, wholeheartedly, unreserved, sincere, unconditionally and passionately all come into full meaning. Only in God’s plan, would it take coming to Uganda for me to learn what Deuteronomy 6:5 truly means. It was the strength part that always tripped me up. I have tried to give God my strength time and time again – my strength in planning and organization, my perseverance, etc. Duh! God doesn’t need my strength. As brilliant as I sometimes think I am, He doesn’t need it. Well then, what does He want? How do I love Him? What do I have that He wants? I can’t give away what I don’t have, but I can give Him all I have been given, just tell me what it is!
First He asks for our heart. I always thought that meant love. How do you do that? It’s not like I can put love in an envelope and slip it to Him. I can’t order Him flowers and chocolate. The heart He means is ourselves. It is everything we think we are, our understanding, everything we value – we give it to Him. So we love Him with all that is us – our desires, what we think, our courage. Then He asks for our soul. Once again it doesn’t fit in the Fed Ex box. The soul He wants is the breath that makes our soul come alive. The very breath He breathed into us is meant to be given back to Him, trusting He will sustain us. Give Him back the very life He created to use as He pleases, as He wills. Then He asks for the kicker – our strength. He doesn’t want our strength. Every time strength is mentioned “renew your strength” in the Bible it means either exchange, renovate, rebuild or restore. Our strength is not the issue in Deuteronomy. The actual word used was “might.” It meant wholly, vehemently, passionately, wholeheartedly, sincerely, fervently, excitedly, and enthusiastically. Jesus said be hot or cold, but not lukewarm. “Don’t worship Me on Sundays. Do it every day, every moment with passion, totally to the exclusion of people, your wants and desires, solely love Me! Lay it down. Lay it all down.”
So my life has become my love letter to the Lord. I can’t sing, but I can worship. This is how I worship Him. It is my desire to bring Him whatever is in me to worship. It is my want to give Him all that I am. It is my longing to lay down all of my hopes, dreams and desires for what He hopes, dreams and desires for me. All of my words, my love and all of my life are His. Freely. Lovingly. Fully. Passionately. All of me, all of my life, the very breath He gave me. I hold fast to Him. I cling to Him. I worship Him. Wholeheartedly. Unreserved. Sincerely. Uninhibited. Willingly.
One day Jesus will ask me, “What is the story of your life?”
There is only one answer that I want to sing from my lips: “It is you. It is you.”
It is my prayer, that you, my friends and family, find the story of your life. I started this letter with the idea, “Only in Uganda …” but the real truth is this: Only in God’s presence…Only in the shadow of God’s wings…Only in God’s sanctuary…Only in God’s fortress…Only on the cross…Only in the will of God, do we become all He has in store for us. There is unrestrained joy in the house of the Lord.

His Clay,
Susan